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PALESTINE AND ITS TRANSFORMATION. 
Illustrated. 

THE PULSE OF ASIA. Illustrated. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
Boston and New York 



PALESTINE AND ITS 
TRANSFORMATION 



PALESTINE AND 
ITS TRANSFORMATION 



BY 

ELLSWORTH HUNTINGTON 

Assistant Professor of Geography in Yale University 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 



COPYRIGHT, 19H, BY ELLSWORTH HUNTINGTON 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published April xqit 



TO 

MY FATHER 
MY BEST CRITIC 



PREFACE 



In addition to the general interest which every 
thoughtful person must feel in Palestine, two spe- 
cial causes have led to the studies on which this 
book is based. In the first place, over ten years 
ago, the reading of Professor George Adam Smith's 
splendid, volume on "The Historical Geography of 
the Holy Land" awakened in the author's mind a 
keen realization of the fact that from the stand- 
point of modern geography Palestine is absolutely 
unique. Hence arose the desire to understand 
more fully the physical features which give rise to 
this uniqueness, and which have helped to mould 
the life and thought of the Jewish race. In the 
second place, extensive travels in Asia Minor, Per- 
sia, India, and central Asia led the author to adopt 
certain theories as to changes of climate and their 
relation to history. Descriptions of Palestine sug- 
gested that the same changes have taken place 
there. Hence it seemed that in no other country 
could the theories be so well tested; for not only 
is Palestine so situated that climatic variations 
would there produce notable variations in habi- 
tability, but also its known history extends back 
to remote antiquity. 

The gratification of this twofold desire to visit 
Palestine became possible in 1909, when the writer 



viii 



PREFACE 



was granted leave of absence from his duties at 
Yale University from February until October, 
and was aided in his project by a university ap- 
propriation, in the form of two years' income of 
the Hadley Publication Fund. The pages which 
follow are the result of this Yale Expedition. I 
wish here to thank President Arthur T. Hadley 
and the general officers of the University for their 
cooperation and interest. 

I also wish to express my deep obligation to Pro- 
fessor G. A. Smith, not only for the original in- 
spiration derived from his book, but also for the 
delightful way in which it reveals the true mean- 
ing of the country to one who is travelling there. 
The present volume is not designed to cover 
the same ground as Professor Smith's book. 
Nevertheless, for the sake of completeness, it has 
been necessary here, as there, to include a general 
description of the country. I know that in this I 
have unconsciously drawn largely on "The His- 
torical Geography of the Holy Land," as well as 
on other works not specifically mentioned. 

"Palestine and its Transformation" differs 
from other books on Palestine in three fundamen- 
tal respects. In the first place the others have 
been written by men whose primary interest was 
centred in the religious significance of the land, 
or who, if geographers, were primarily interested 
in problems of map-making or the identification 
of Biblical sites. The present writer, on the con- 



PREFACE 



ix 



trary, is by profession a geographer, that is, one 
whose main interest is in the study of the effect 
of physical environment upon the distribution 
of living beings and upon man's mode of life and 
thought. In the second place, while writers on 
Palestine frequently mention the geological struc- 
ture of the country and describe its scenery, no 
one has hitherto made use of the methods of 
modern geography to show the full effect of these 
features upon human history. In the first half of 
this volume I have attempted to divide Pales- 
tine into provinces differentiated according to geo- 
logical structure, and then to show how the pro- 
cesses of erosion, acting for longer or shorter 
intervals, have given rise to distinct types of 
scenery. Each of these physiographic provinces 
is characterized by special climatic conditions, 
due partly to latitude and to position in respect 
to the sea, and partly to the relief of the land. 
Because of the physical differences, each province 
has had its own peculiar effect, not only upon the 
occupations of the people, and their relation to 
other races, but upon their character and history. 
Finally, the third fundamental respect in which 
this book differs from others is in its treatment 
of climate. The majority of geographers and, still 
more, of historians have assumed that any changes 
of climate which may have taken place during 
the period covered by recorded history have been 
of negligible importance. Good authorities, how- 



X 



PREFACE 



ever, have questioned this view. The present vol- 
ume discusses the problem in detail; and the con- 
clusion is reached not only that the climate of 
the past five thousand years has been subject to 
numerous changes, but that these may have been 
a potent factor in the guidance of some of the 
greatest historical movements. So important is 
this subject that half the volume is devoted to it. 

A word should be added as to the map which 
accompanies this book. In the matter of nomen- 
clature it is avowedly inconsistent. Those names 
are used which are most commonly known, with- 
out respect to whether they are Hebrew, Greek, 
Latin, or Arabic. The colored map, the relief 
map, and the diagrammatic representation of 
Palestine are all prepared with the especial pur- 
pose of bringing into prominence the fact that 
the country is highly diverse in topography. The 
relief map, which serves as frontispiece, is a 
photograph of the model prepared by the Pales- 
tine Exploration Fund, and is reproduced here by 
courtesy of the Committee of the Fund, to whom 
thanks are due from every student of Palestine. 

My travels in Palestine were shared by Mr. 
Clarence F. Graham of Albany, New York, to 
whom I owe much gratitude for his unfailing good 
humor even when we experienced grave difficulties 
and serious inconveniences in the desert and else- 
where. I also wish to express my thanks to the 
many people who aided us with the whole-hearted- 



PREFACE 



xi 



ness which is especially characteristic of mission- 
aries. Mr. Hornstein of Jerusalem assisted much 
in arranging our first trip to the Dead Sea; Mr. 
Hughes, proprietor of the Hughes Hotel, was 
most considerate in planning for all of our expe- 
ditions which started from Jerusalem; Mr. John 
Whiting of the American Colony at Jerusalem 
put at our disposal a large amount of practical 
knowledge as to travel in the little visited regions 
of the south; and Dr. and Mrs. Patterson, of the 
Scotch Presbyterian Hospital at Hebron, especially 
made us feel the unity of the English-speaking 
nations. All these and many others cheerfully 
helped us, often at the cost of genuine inconven- 
ience, and to all we are most grateful. 

Portions of the material presented in this 
volume have already been published in Harper's 
Magazine for 1910 and in the Bulletin of the 
American Geographical Society of New York for 
1908. In the immediate preparation of the book 
I have been greatly helped by the contribution of 
Professor H. C. Butler of Princeton, which ap- 
pears as chapter xiii. The literary form of the 
work has been improved in many respects by the 
criticisms of my father, Henry S. Huntington, 
who has carefully revised the entire manuscript. 
Since the volume was in print it has had the fur- 
ther advantage of being read in whole or in large 
part by Professors C. C. Torrey, F. W. Williams, 
and C. F. Kent of Yale University, and by Mr. 



xii 



PREFACE 



Henry S. Huntington, Jr., who have made most 
valuable suggestions. To each of the men here 
mentioned I take pleasure in expressing my in- 
debtedness. 

E. H. 

Yale University, 
New Haven, Conn. 
February, 1911. 



CONTENTS 



I. The Heart of the Land ...... 3 

II. The Land as a Whole 19 

III. The Coasts of Phoenician and Jew. . . 42 

IV. The Debatable Shephelah 66 

V. The Wilderness of Judea 82 

VI. The Parched Land of the Negeb . . . 104 
VII. A Contrast of Physical Form .... 136 

VIII. Galilee of the Gentiles 163 

IX. The Ghor and the Dead Sea 180 

X. Beyond the Dead Sea 199 

XL The Lands of Jephthah and Og . . . . 226 
XII. The Climate of Ancient Palestine . .249 



XIII. The Observations of an Archaeologist . 283 

XIV. The Fluctuations of the Dead Sea . . 303 
XV. The Fallen Queen of the Desert . . . 337 



XVI. Climate and History 373 

XVII. Ancient Palestine 405 

Appendix. Ancient Statements as to Meteorolo- 
gical Phenomena in Palestine . .419 

Index of Biblical References 427 

Index of Names and Subjects 431 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Colored Map of Palestine Frontispiece 



Relief Map of Palestine 2 

Reproduced by permission of the Committee of the Palestine 
Exploration Fund. Photographed from copy of relief map 
in Boston Public Library. 

Threshing-floor of Sinjil, looking toward Sama- 
ria 16 

Scanty Wheat-fields among the Rock Terraces of 
Judea 16 

Diagrammatic Relief Map of Palestine ... 22 

Figure 1. Annual Distribution of Rainfall at 
Jerusalem 34 

Natural Bridge at Ain el Laben in Lebanon . . 60 

Woman with Baby and Cradle in a Village of 
Philistia 60 

The Wilderness of Judea above En-Gedi . . 100 

Gathering Beans in an Olive Grove in the She- 

PHELAH 100 

The Arabah South of the Dead Sea, looking East 
toward Edom 106 

A Well worked by Horse-power at Beersheba . 120 

Arabs ploughing for Millet in the Negeb . . 120 



xvi ILLUSTRATIONS 

Mosque of El Aksa, Siloam and Judean Plateau 
looking South from the Top of the Mosque of 
Omar 136 

Women of Samaria at Sebastiyeh 136 

Figure 2. Highly generalized and idealized Geo- 
logical Section of Palestine from North to 
South 146 

Harvesters beside a Stony Galilean Road . . 166 

The Best Houses of Mejdel in the Plain of Gen- 
nesaret 166 

Ferry over the Jordan and Old Lake Deposits at 
Ed Damieh 184 

Palm Trees killed by a Recent Rise of the Dead 
Sea 184 

Women of Judea at the Moabite Ruins of Kastal .210 

Shepherds on the Borders of Gilead .... 210 

Rock Theatre and Tombs at Petra, looking North- 
west toward Main City 222 

Primitive Cave-dwellers of Gilead 232 

Oak Forest and Charcoal-burners in Gilead . .232 

Figure 3. Climatic Hypotheses ....... 252 

Plan of Jerash 278 

Reproduced from " Zeitschrift des deutschen Pdlestina- 
vereins," vol. xxv, 1902 

Carrying Home the Barley Harvest near Damascus 292 

Fifth-century Church at Hawarin, made from the 
Ruins of Ancient Temples 292 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Strands of the Dead Sea, looking North from 
Wadi Zerka Ma'in 308 

Figure 4. The Dead Sea and the Ancient Bound- 
ary of Judah. After Clermont-Ganneau . . . 311 

Reproduced from "Recueil d' Archeologie Orientale," vol. v 

Figure 5. Approximate Climatic Fluctuations 
during the Christian Era 327 

Figure 6. Inscriptions found by Princeton Expe- ; 
ditions in Drier Portions of Syria. Arranged 
by Decades 334 

Damascus 344 

Reproduced from Porter's " Five Tears in Damascus " 

Palmyra 344 

Reproduced from Porter's " Five Years in Damascus " 

Temple and Sepulchral Towers among the Ruins 
of Palmyra 360 

Figure 7. Approximate Climatic Fluctuations of 
the Historic Period 403 

Figure 8. Geological Cross-section of Southern 
Palestine, through Bethlehem. After Blanck- 
enhorn 424 



Reproduced from " Zeitschrift des deutschen Pdlestina- 
vereins " 

Figure 9. The Rainfall of Jerusalem, 1846-1908 425 

Plotted from Hilderscheid' s figures in "Zeitschrift des 
deutschen Pdlestinavereins," vol. xxv, 1902 

Sketch Map of Lands surrounding Palestine . . 426 



PALESTINE AND ITS 
TRANSFORMATION 



PALESTINE AND ITS TRANS- 
FORMATION 



CHAPTER I 

THE HEAET OF THE LAND 

Iron is iron, no matter what its shape. Yet a 
bulky mass of pig-iron is very different from the 
revolving fly-wheel of an engine. Although the 
difference is due merely to the form or mould in 
which the material is cast, it is vastly important. 
A thousand years of casting good metal in angular 
moulds would never produce a circular fly-wheel. 
Even so with human nature. To be sure its pow- 
ers of growth are infinitely removed from the 
capacities of iron for welding, bending, and pol- 
ishing. Yet like molten metal it is poured forth 
upon the world. A part falls into the mould of the 
hungry desert, a part into the debilitating torrid 
zone, and other parts into every conceivable en- 
vironment. The original material, with its living 
powers of mind and soul, may or may not be all 
alike. Some races may be endowed with unusual 
spiritual insight or mental vigor, just as special 
varieties of steel possess peculiar qualities because 
iron has been treated with nickel or chromium; 



4 



PALESTINE 



but the grade of the raw material is only half the 
story. The finest steel cast into rough, pitted 
cubes would be useless: the finest primitive 
races doomed to live always in the fever-stricken 
swamps of Africa would never emerge from sav- 
agery without some outside aid. 

The correct interpretation of history demands 
first a knowledge of man's mental, moral, and 
spiritual qualities, that is, of the psychological 
character of human nature. Then it demands 
an understanding of his surroundings, or of the 
mould in which generation after generation has 
been cast. The chief of all moulding forces is geo- 
graphic environment, — the form of the land where 
a man lives and obtains sustenance, the nature 
of the forests, swamps, or mountains to which he 
flees for refuge, and the character of the climate 
which determines his mode of life and fills him 
with lassitude or energy. The great Hebrew con- 
ceptions of God, and of the relation of God to 
man, and man to his fellow, might possibly have 
been moulded under conditions other than those 
of Palestine. We can have little doubt, how- 
ever, that under such circumstances they would 
have assumed a form distinctly different from 
that which has gone forth from Judea to domi- 
nate the lands of the West. 

In Palestine, as perhaps nowhere else, the 
power of nature in moulding human actions and 
thoughts is plainly visible. There, too, in strangest 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 5 



contrast, faith and the power of ideals have tri- 
umphed more gloriously than in any other land. 
So strongly do these opposed aspects of history 
impress themselves upon the student, that more 
than its share of importance is often assigned to 
each, according as a man's mind is scientific or 
idealistic in bent. Hitherto Palestine has been 
studied chiefly by men filled with the idealistic 
spirit, that is, by those whose interest centres in 
the religious significance of the land or in its con- 
tribution to thought without respect to the rela- 
tion of that thought to nature. Many authors, to 
be sure, have discussed the purely physical as- 
pects of Palestine; but few have avowedly set 
themselves the task of explaining step by step the 
process by which geologic structure, topographic 
form, and the present and past nature of the cli- 
mate have shaped man's progress, moulded his 
history, and thus played an incalculable part in 
the development of a system of thought which 
could scarcely have arisen under any other phy- 
sical circumstances. The hope of aiding in the 
comprehension of this complex sequence, and of 
showing how natural environment prepared the 
way for the teachings of Christ, was the purpose 
of the Yale Expedition whose work forms the 
basis of this volume. 

We went to the East with the firm purpose of 
steering a coolly scientific middle course between 
the gushing enthusiasm and the cynical disap- 



6 



PALESTINE 



pointment into which writers on Palestine are 
prone to fall. For four inspiring months in the 
spring of 1909 Mr. Clarence F. Graham and my- 
self travelled back and forth in Palestine and its 
border lands. By a series of circuits and zigzags 
we saw at least a sample of each of the varied 
geographic types which nature has thrown to- 
gether in this unique little country. As we tra- 
versed its highly diverse provinces, we were con- 
tinually amazed to find how minutely geologic 
structure is reflected, not only in topography and 
climate, but also in history. We were surprised 
also to discover how closely historic progress 
and decline appear to have synchronized with 
changes in climate. At the end of our journey 
we found ourselves enthusiastic, not over the 
beauty of the country, for on the whole it is 
not beautiful, but over the marvellous way in 
which a knowledge of the physical geography of 
the land explains its eventful history, and lends 
unexpected interest to even the simplest of the 
old Bible stories. 

Two coordinate subjects form the theme of this 
volume, tocography and climate. The first half 
of the book is devoted largely to a description of 
the appearance and form of Palestine and to a 
consideration of the manner in which the peculiar 
geological structure of the country has given rise 
to certain strongly marked characteristics, whose 
influence can be traced throughout history. The 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 7 

second half deals with the climate of the country, 
or, more specifically, with the changes to which 
climate has been subject. In the first half our 
attention will be closely confined to Palestine; in 
the second, we shall be forced to include many 
surrounding regions, and to review the history 
of Egypt and Babylonia in order to comprehend 
that of Palestine. 

The character of Judea as an isolated plateau is 
the most important topographic feature of Pal- 
estine. This is no new idea, but it is one whose 
full significance is rarely appreciated. It explains 
much of Hebrew history. Judea is not only iso- 
lated from the rest of the country, but radically 
different from any other part in structure, in ap- 
pearance, and in influence upon man. Because 
of Judea's peculiar physical form, its people pre- 
served the true spirit of the Hebrew religion when 
the other Israelites fell away. Even Samaria, 
the province most closely allied to Judea, is no- 
tably different. So important is this difference 
and so far-reaching its results, that we may well 
begin our study of the land by a description of the 
contrasted features of the two as we saw them on 
one of our journeys. 

Late in June we were returning to Jerusalem to 
compare the aspect of Judea during the long sum- 
mer drought with our remembrance of it in March 
at the end of the rainy season. Leaving Galilee 
and the green plain of Esdraelon, we climbed a 



8 



PALESTINE 



short ascent of gray limestone to Jezreel, in north- 
ern Samaria. There the Philistines defeated Saul 
so wofully that he fell on his sword and died. 
There Naboth lived, whose pleasant vineyard 
was his undoing in the days when Jezebel ruled 
Ahab and Ahab ruled Israel. Farther south our 
route led close to Dothan, where Joseph's bro- 
thers cast him into a pit, and drew him forth to 
sell to Midianite merchants on the way to Egypt. 
That the first Biblical sites upon which we came 
in Samaria should be associated with foreign in- 
fluences is typical of the province. From the ear- 
liest times the form of the land has caused it to 
be full of aliens such as the cruel princess from 
the trafficking Sidonians, and the callous traders 
bound from across Jordan to Egypt. 

To eyes wonted to the impoverished aspect of 
nature in lands not blessed with summer rain, 
Samaria seems a pleasant little province. Small 
fertile plains lie in basins among low hills or tree- 
less mountains with rounded heads, always rocky, 
rarely rugged. On the slopes where hill meets 
plain, drab villages of adobe or stone cluster 
among terraces, some artificial, some natural. In 
late June we found part of the terraces covered 
with sere dead grass; but more bore the prosper- 
ous look of grainfields newly reaped or soon to 
be harvested, and not a few were hidden under a 
dark mantle of olive groves. The un terraced por- 
tions of the hillsides were pale yellow with ripe 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 9 



wheat, or glaring white where the chalky soil lay 
naked. At the foot of the hills broader fields of 
ripe grain shimmered in the summer sun, relieved 
by pure green patches of sesame and millet. The 
deep reddish brown tint of fallow squares, newly 
ploughed, proclaimed the richness of a soil mel- 
lowed by ages of weathering during its progress 
from the hillsides to the plains. 

Toward the end of the day's ride we came upon 
delightful bits of scenery. At the head of the val- 
ley of Silet ed Dahr, three or four miles north 
of the ancient city of Samaria, we looked down 
westward into a beautiful amphitheatre of tree- 
clad slopes with a village in the centre, and a 
small cultivated plain opening itself to the sun 
where the stage of the old Greek theatres should 
be. Close to the village the light green color of 
the trees proclaimed that they were apricots, 
while darker patches were figs, set as near to the 
houses as possible to preserve the tempting fruit 
from pilferers. Farther away the great amphi- 
theatre was dusky with vigorous olive groves, 
among whose stony paths we met the women of 
the East bearing on their heads the inevitable red 
jars for water. In spite of unprepossessing fea- 
tures, their erect carriage and graceful gait ren- 
dered them attractive, at least from a distance. 
All wore dresses made with bands of red a foot 
wide on a ground of blue or white and passing 
diagonally from the shoulders around the waist 



10 



PALESTINE 



to the skirt. The picturesque costume looked 
best on those who eased the strain of the heavy 
red jars by raising their brown arms and clasping 
the hands behind the head. 

The chief towns of Samaria are not located in 
the most typical portions of the province. The 
impressive Roman ruins of Sebastiyeh, the mod- 
ern representative of Samaria, do not lie in a 
hollow, but on a hilltop, looking seaward with 
a splendid view of the Mediterranean in the dis- 
tance and charming olive groves in "the valleys 
at one's feet. Shechem, the modern Nablus, is 
much more nearly typical than Sebastiyeh, for it 
lies in a valley, but the valley is unusually nar- 
row for Samaria and contains an uncommon 
amount of running water. Where the valley 
broadens west of the city, pleasant gardens and 
fertile fields respond to the abundant springs. 
The city itself is a strangely contracted place, 
wedged in between the rounded mountains of 
Ebal and Gerizim, whose lower slopes are covered 
with rocky terraces set with hedges of cactus. 
That so constricted a town should be fanatical 
seems appropriate. In search of the other mem- 
bers of the caravan I traversed the long covered 
street upon which the bazaars are strung. As 
I entered, small boys threw stones at me and 
shouted, "Giaour, giaour!" (Infidel, infidel.) A 
man in a green turban, a descendant of the 
Prophet Mohammed, sourly motioned to me to 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 11 



dismount. Another in a white surplice and red 
turban, a member of the diminished sect of the 
Samaritans, stroked his long gray beard and did 
likewise. I thought they were fanatics who dis- 
liked to see a Christian ride through their dim, 
narrow streets. In a moment, however, my horse 
began to slip dangerously on the uneven lime- 
stone pavement, and I perceived that the men 
of Shechem were wise in their surly advice. 

South of Shechem, although the mountains rise 
higher than to the north, the scenery is of the true 
Samaritan type. The roadways traverse basins, 
plains, and valleys, for the mountains are mere 
obstructions, — something to be gone around, 
not crossed. The villages are not on the hills, 
but snugly set in the valleys. 

The peculiarities of Samaritan scenery are due 
to geological structure. Where hard limestone has 
been heaved upward, hills and mountains prevail, 
but throughout most of the province the hard 
strata have been bent downward, and softer 
rocks allow the formation of valleys and plains. 
In spite of the mountains the province can be 
easily traversed in almost any direction. Hence 
foreign influences have continually entered. 
Hence, also, Samaria is relatively fertile but not 
particularly inspiring. There a man may live all 
his life in peace and plenty without severe exer- 
tion. The heat of summer in the sunny plains 
deters him from working harder than necessity 



1% PALESTINE 

demands. The winter, with its cool air, spurs him 
to industry. One would expect to find in Samaria 
a race of unimaginative plodders, working hard 
sometimes, but rarely keyed up by the pressure of 
actual want. Only a few places, such as the city of 
Samaria and the border towns looking seaward or 
Jordanward, are fitted to inspire a man and make 
him long great longings. The mountains are of 
the rounded, open kind which can be seen entirely 
from below. A man might dwell among them 
threescore years and ten, and never feel the im- 
pulse to climb for the sake of climbing. The life 
of Samaria is in its open, accessible plains. 

Judea is utterly different. Toward night on the 
day of our ride from Samaria through Shechem, 
we climbed a long steep slope, and came out on 
the top of the world. A change had come over the 
geological structure of the country. The rocks 
were harder than hitherto, and lay horizontally. 
The valleys were correspondingly narrower, the 
paths stonier, and the fields less fertile. Moreover, 
the villages and fields were no longer in the low- 
lands, but up on the heights. Leaving the main 
wagon road, we struck into a path which seemed 
the stoniest of all possible paths; but soon, as 
we bore off to the southwest and approached the 
village of Sinjil, it became far worse. Walls made 
of blocks of rough limestone bordered it on either 
side; and the path itself was a loose mass of angu- 
lar stones from two to six inches in diameter. For 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 13 



ages the villagers have painstakingly picked the 
stones from the fields and tossed them into the 
road. Climbing the last steep ascent we came 
to the stone village. On the top of a dunghill, 
twenty feet high, half a dozen men were standing, 
while two or three squatted comfortably like 
frogs. Their white cotton trousers and tunics, 
soiled and worn, appeared too thin for the cool 
night air; each man had swung over his shoul- 
ders a woollen abba or long dark cloak in pleasing 
contrast with the white garments beneath it. 
Women whose faces were disfigured with tattooed 
patterns of stars, circles, or simple lines of dark 
blue spots, passed by with water jars, or came to 
the doors to peer out in the intervals when the 
evening porridge did not require attention. Their 
dresses were straight gowns of a blue as deep as 
that of the tattooing on their faces; but red gir- 
dles and the white cotton shawls over their heads 
added a pleasing variety of color. Sitting on the 
dry grass which covered the flat domes of the 
neighboring houses, some girls dressed in white let 
red shawls slip from their black hair to their 
shoulders. Occasionally they turned from watch- 
ing the strangers to reprove the saucy little boys 
who scampered about in striped tunics of various 
colors and tossed into the air round red caps 
glittering with gilt bangles. 

A handsome, white-bearded man took charge of 
us, and led the way through a narrow alley up the 



14 



PALESTINE 



' hill to his house. By an outside staircase we as- 
cended past the lower story, where wiry little 
cows, solemn oxen, and braying donkeys were 
ensconced, and were introduced to our lodgings. 
The people of Sinjil are Mohammedans, but do 
not strictly observe the Law. The women, here, 
as in most parts of Palestine outside the cities, 
make no attempt to veil their faces; and our 
hostess did not hesitate to talk freely with our 
servants. We found her in an open porch half 
enclosed by the thick leaves and hanging clus- 
ters of a flourishing grapevine. Behind the porch 
a clean, white- washed room of adobe was put at 
our disposal, although we preferred to follow our 
usual custom and sleep in the open air on the 
roof. 

As we looked abroad from our porch we realized 
how different Judea is from Samaria, or any other 
part of Palestine. Close at hand tall hedges of 
prickly pear enclosed small gardens where toma- 
toes, eggplant, summer squashes, and cucumbers 
were carefully cherished. Among the gardens fig 
trees flourished, with here and there a pomegran- 
ate tree breaking into crimson bloom. A little far- 
ther away, but still close at hand, round watch- 
towers made of rough limestone stood in the midst 
of green vineyards. The surrounding walls of 
stone were capped with thorn bushes set in dry 
adobe to keep out, not only boys and men, but 
foxes and other animals with a sweet tooth. Be- 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 15 



tween the walls belated husbandmen were driving 
donkeys, laden with sheaves which concealed all 
of the animals except their heads and ears. The 
beasts were bound for the threshing-floor just 
below the village, where a few muzzled oxen or 
donkeys, tied three abreast, were still patiently 
circling round and round to tread out the grain. 
Beyond the vineyards and the threshing-floor 
lay the cultivated land, not in smooth lowland 
plains or on low gentle slopes as in Samaria, but 
among the hills on every flat space of sufficient 
size, perchance in a valley below a pleasing 
olive grove, or it might be on a hillside. Back 
of this scene so full of evidences of patient in- 
dustry, the Judean hills rose rounded, gray, and 
rocky, a virile landscape, unpromising and yet 
attractive. 

The attraction of the view lay in its spacious- 
ness. Southward the distant prospect was hidden 
by the height on which the village lies, but east- 
ward, northward, and westward the sterile hills 
of naked rock did not bound the field of vision. 
In each case something lay beyond. To the east, 
across the hidden depression of the deep Jordan 
Valley, we could see the highlands of Gilead, — a 
band of deepest blue beneath the gracious sunset 
arch of pink and purple which in lands of drought 
makes separation between the shadows of night 
and the light of day. Northward Mount Gerizim 
and Mount Ebal merged in a flat- topped mass, 



16 



PALESTINE 



flanked by lower hills of softer aspect than those 
of rugged Judea. Westward the rich glow of a 
golden sunset hid all the view save the purple 
hills of the northern end of the Shephelah, seen 
to the left through a gap in the nearer domes of 
rock. We turned from the view at the call of our 
Moslem host, a stout householder in a white tunic, 
blue girdle, and turban of banded red and white. 
He served us with unsweetened coffee flavored 
with cardamom seeds. Then pointing westward, 
he exclaimed, "El Bahr, el bahr! " (The Sea, the 
sea.) "Don't you see it out there ? We see it all 
the time, and Jaffa, and the steamers passing to 
and fro." Beneath a sky of dim old gold we saw 
the dark blue line of the Mediterranean. As we 
watched it, cool breezes came out of the west; the 
damp of summer dew was in the air. A sense of 
space and freedom enveloped us, — of height and 
openness, and of being above the rest of the world 
and away from it. 

The sensation was wholly different from what 
we had felt in the low villages of Samaria, or in 
those of the plains east of the Jordan. Something 
of it we had experienced in Hunin and Safed in 
upper Galilee, or in the mountain towns of Syria 
which look down upon the sea; but in all those 
places something else rises higher and more com- 
manding than any village. In Judea, on the other 
hand, many a village and almost every hilltop 
brings with it the sense of space and of being at 




SCANTY WHEAT-FIELDS AMONG THE ROCK TERRACES OF JUDEA 



THE HEART OF THE LAND 17 



the top of everything. I felt it south of Hebron, 
at Jutta, — linguistically unrelated to Judea, — 
at Dahariyeh, southwest of Hebron, and at Taiyi- 
beh, north of Jerusalem, as well as Sinjil. Scores 
of other villages give rise to the same feeling. Per- 
haps it is in part imagination, but my companion 
felt likewise. It cannot be wholly imagination, 
for our host evidently loved the view; and few 
men are so dull that they fail to be thrilled with 
some slight stir of f eeling when they stand looking 
down on all the world at sunset. And so it seems 
that generations of life in such a land must have 
played a part in giving to the Jews the strong 
idealism which gradually evolved among them, 
Judea, far more than any other part of Palestine, 
gave to the world the great Jewish and Christian 
religions and indirectly much of Mohammedan- 
ism. Judea, to the student of scientific geography, 
is unique among the countries of the world. Only 
a land of its peculiar geological structure could 
stand thus as an island of refuge shut off from all 
the districts round about, and ever looking down 
upon them. Neither rich nor beautiful, it is yet 
inspiring. No wonder the Jews loved it; no won- 
der the phrase "going up to Jerusalem" meant 
much, for even in a physical sense the inhabitants 
of the rest of Palestine were obliged to go up to 
reach J udea. When they had gone up, they looked 
abroad and felt that they were separate from the 
rest of the world. Thus the peculiar physical 



» 

18 



PALESTINE 



structure of Judea and its comparative isolation 
and uplifted position in the midst of Palestine 
constitute the central theme in the study of the 
influence of the land upon the people. Judea is 
the heart of Palestine. / 



CHAPTER II 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 

Judea may be the heart of Palestine. It is not 
the whole. Many important characteristics per- 
tain to the entire country. These must be under- 
stood before the details can be appreciated. To 
readers already familiar with the physical geo- 
graphy of the land most of what is said in this 
chapter is familiar. It is included here in order 
to present a complete picture to which reference 
may be made later in dealing with special regions. 

The small size of Palestine has always been a 
theme for wonder. Seventy or eighty miles is 
nothing in most countries. It is everything in 
Palestine. In America or Europe, having trav- 
ersed the distance in two hours, we look up in 
surprise from our magazines to find our destina- 
tion at hand. In Palestine after travelling eighty 
miles, which generally takes three days, one is 
amazed to discover that he has seen so much of 
the country, that he has grasped its most essential 
features, and has thereby enriched his vision of 
history and of the evolution of human thought by 
the opening of a most fascinating vista. 

England is a small country, yet no one would 
feel that a ride of seventy or eighty miles from 



20 



PALESTINE 



London northwestward to Rugby, and another 
of equal length southwestward from London to 
the Isle of Wight, had given him a sight of all the 
essential parts. We should laugh at a man who 
thought that, by travelling from Rouen eastward 
to Paris and northward to St. Quentin or south- 
ward to Orleans, he had become acquainted with 
France. Palestine, however, is so small that a ride 
of equal length from the Mediterranean coast 
eastward through Jerusalem and across the Jor- 
dan Valley to the plateau of Moab, and then back 
to Jerusalem and northward through Samaria to 
the Sea of Galilee, is sufficient to give a good idea 
of the country as a whole. Palestine has rightly 
been called the "least of all lands." Had it been 
larger, its influence might have been less. 

The smallness of Palestine becomes still more 
remarkable when we consider how extremely 
varied are the regions found within its borders, 
and how diminutive the district which has really 
been important. 

A journey from Philadelphia to New York, 
and then up the Hudson to Poughkeepsie, agrees 
in length with the one just outlined in Palestine. 
It is a pleasant ride, which a man might take again 
and again and still enjoy, but it is not notable for 
its variety. It includes the smooth lowland of 
the Delaware, the insignificant hills of western 
New Jersey, the plains and marshes of the north- 
eastern part of the state, the drowned valley of 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 21 



the Hudson, and the Catskill Mountains, which 
present the New England type of scenery. No 
great and sudden contrasts fire the imagination. 
The impression upon the traveller is of unity 
rather than diversity. All the country is green. 
Everywhere nature permits man to live in essen- 
tially the same way, and to carry on essentially 
the same occupations. It would be necessary 
to travel two thousand miles to New Mexico or 
Utah to find a district as different from southern 
New York as Mount Carmel is from the desert 
seventy -five miles away around Jericho. 

California is the only part of the United States 
which approaches Palestine in variety of scenery. 
A ride of seventy or eighty miles from San Fran- 
cisco inland to Sacramento begins on the cool, 
foggy coast with its low summer temperature, 
and splendid redwood trees among the mountains. 
Then come the drier, more grassy mountains east 
of the great bay, and finally the hot, semi-arid 
inner valley. Yet even here the degree of vari- 
ety is less than in Palestine. In California, as 
one travels across the mountains, the various 
types succeed one another rapidly, but parallel 
to the ranges the scenery varies little for hun- 
dreds of miles. In Palestine, on the contrary, the 
changes are rapid whether one travels parallel to 
the mountains in a north or south direction, or 
athwart them east or west. \ 

Even in Southern California, the portion of the 



PALESTINE 



world which above all others resembles Palestine, 
great variety and sudden contrasts are by no 
means so numerous as in the land of the Hebrews. 
In the fifty miles from Los Angeles northeastward 
across the Sierra Madre Mountains to the Mo- 
have Desert the changes are as marked and rapid 
as those in the same distance from the Mediter- 
ranean to the Dead Sea. The immediate coast of 
California is cooler than that of Palestine because 
of the great size and free movement of the Pacific 
Ocean, but the orange groves at the foot of the 
mountains correspond to those of Jaffa, the grain- 
fields in the upland valleys are not unlike those 
of Judea, and the Mohave Desert at the eastern 
base of the mountains is of the same type as that 
which surrounds the Dead Sea. Farther inland 
the resemblance diminishes, for in Southern Cali- 
fornia the desert continues eastward indefinitely, 
while that of Palestine is interrupted by the pe- 
culiar little strip of verdure which has made the 
name of Moab famous. Only to the east of Moab 
does the great desert of Arabia begin. There 
monotonous uniformity succeeds infinite variety. 

The remarkable variety of Palestine is due 
partly to the physical form of the land and partly 
to the climate. The form may be understood by 
comparing the topography shown in the photo- 
graphic map at the beginning of this volume with 
the diagrammatic sketch on the opposite page. 
One or two million years ago in the middle of 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 23 



the Tertiary era, the last great geological age, a 
vast warping and uplifting of the earth's crust 
took place for hundreds of miles along the eastern 
coast of the Mediterranean Sea. The movement 
did not occur all at once, nor with perfect regu- 
larity. The whole process probably was not com- 
pleted until almost the present time, and may not 
be finished yet. It was complicated by minor 
movements, some of which were parallel to the 
main uplift and some at an angle to it. Without 
attempting to say just when or how each move- 
ment took place, let us examine their result. In 
the first place let us conceive of the main uplift in 
its simplest form. From the peninsula of Sinai on 
the south to the northeastern corner of the Medi- 
terranean Sea five hundred miles away to the 
north, a great arching up of the earth's crust took 
place, steep toward the west, flat on the top, and 
of gentle slope toward the east. At the north the 
movement amounted to six or eight thousand 
feet. In the centre it was greater, so that Leba- 
non, Anti-Lebanon, and Hermon rise nine or ten 
thousand feet above the Mediterranean. Far- 
ther south the uplift diminished to only three or 
four thousand feet in Judea and less in the Negeb. 
Along the top of this broad flat ridge of solid rock 
a remarkable dislocation occurred, a subsidence 
of the centre of the arch from end to end. In the 
north a narrow belt was bent sharply down as one 
might bend a sheet of paper, forming the valley of 



24 



PALESTINE 



the Orontes, and the Bkaa, five thousand feet or 
more below the heights on either side. Farther 
south in Palestine the bending continued, but in 
the latitude of Jerusalem it took the form of a 
fracture on one or both sides, and the central 
wedge dropped six thousand feet to form the 
Ghor, the deep depression in which lies the Dead 
Sea. These remarkable movements divided Pal- 
estine into three main strips running north and 
south. The most important strip is the western 
highland, or plateau, with a moderately steep 
slope on the west, a very steep descent on the 
east, and a flat top. Eastward lies the Jordan- 
Arabah depression, or Ghor, steep on either side, 
flat on the bottom, below sea-level throughout 
practically all Palestine, — a hot and most inhos- 
pitable rift in the earth's crust. Beyond it a sharp 
ascent of from three to five thousand feet leads up 
to the third strip, the eastern highland, broad and 
flat, and sloping gently away from Palestine to 
the Syrian desert. 

The map shows that the three main strips, 
which form, as it were, the huge backbone of 
Syria, with a deep hollow along its centre, are 
flanked by two other important regions, the vast 
desert of Syria on the east and the coastal plain 
of^the Philistines on the west. Imperceptibly the 
eastern highland descends into the limitless roll- 
ing desert, grassy on the edges, but dry and 
parched farther east. Most of the surface con- 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 25 



sists of flinty gravel, with little sand except in 
regions far southeast of Syria. Low hills of lime- 
stone rise at intervals near the borders, but the 
centre is level for scores of miles. The ordinary 
Israelite knew nothing of this dreary land save by 
report, but it was always a menace to him. Out of 
its unconquered wastes his own ancestors were 
cast forth; in its depths dwelt the ancestors of 
races who were to possess the land when the 
Children of Israel had been cruelly expelled. 

On the other side of Palestine, seaward, lies a 
region quite different from the desert, — the fer- 
tile, well-watered strip of the Philistine coastal 
plain. North of Carmel it disappears, cut off by 
the fault of Esdraelon. At most it is only fifteen 
miles wide and a hundred long. There Samson 
tied firebrands to foxes' tails to burn the standing 
crops of the Philistines, for its fields were most 
productive. Only in the reigns of David and Sol- 
omon did Hebrew kings really rule the plain. Yet, 
in a way, it was an essential part of Palestine. 
Sometimes it was a danger, often a protection to 
Judea; for along its smooth roads armies could 
march and countermarch without being tempted 
to ascend the inhospitable heights where the 
world's chief religions were in the making. 

Except for the coastal plain, the strips of Syria, 
as has already been indicated, resemble those of 
California. The resemblance is so important that 
we shall sum it up again. Taking Syria as a whole, 



26 



PALESTINE 



the western highland corresponds to the Califor- 
nia Coast Range, although the American moun- 
tains have no plateaus corresponding to Palestine. 
In the Syrian portion of the range, that is, in Leb- 
anon, great natural bridges, magnificent springs, 
and giant cedars remaining from forests that once 
were dense, are comparable with the superb scen- 
ery and giant redwoods of California. The Syrian 
highland is less fertile and verdant than the 
American Coast Range because it lies farther 
south, and because the Pacific exceeds the Medi- 
terranean in size. Formerly, however, the differ- 
ence in climate was less noticeable. The Jordan- 
Arabah depression, second of the strips of Syria, 
is much lower and narrower than the great valley 
which extends for four hundred miles from far 
north of Sacramento through the San Joaquin 
country and past Lake Tulare to Bakersfield. 
The two are alike, however, in their dry climate 
and sunny skies; and the salt lakes of Kern 
County are of the same nature as the Dead Sea. 
In similar fashion the Sierra Nevada Mountains 
correspond to the eastern highlands of Syria, and 
the arid regions of Nevada and Utah to the Syr- 
ian desert. The chief differences are, first, that 
the physical features of America are on a far 
larger scale than those of Syria, and especially 
than those of Palestine, and, second, that they are 
less subject to variation from north to south. 
The major features of Palestine, as we have 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 27 



seen, are determined by lines of crustal movement 
running north and south. The minor features de- 
pend on similar lines of flexure or faulting running 
in general northwest and southeast, but often 
swinging nearly to east and west. They can be 
clearly| understood from the idealized diagram- 
matic map opposite page 22. Between Hebron and 
Beersheba the earth's crust has been bent in such 
fashion that the region to the south is depressed 
nearly two thousand feet below the plateau of 
Judea. The line of bending forms the real south- 
ern limit of Palestine; for the Negeb, as the coun- 
try to the south is called, is so low and flat that 
the Israelites were early driven out by the people 
of the desert. This southern line of flexure, unlike 
those farther north, does not extend across the 
Ghor. On the contrary, beyond the Dead Sea 
the eastern highland rises southward. Being high, 
it is relatively rainy, and is dotted with a few scat- 
tered villages for sixty miles beyond the limit of 
permanent habitation in the low region directly 
to the west. 

The next of the east and west lines in Palestine 
separates Samaria from Judea in the western 
highland, and Gilead from Moab in the eastern. 
Looking eastward from Judea toward Moab and 
Gilead, the skyline is almost level in Moab, but to 
the left in the more northerly province of Gilead 
it arches gently upward into the flat -topped 
heights whither Absalom fled to his death among 



28 



PALESTINE 



the oaks. Looking from Gilead westward, a simi- 
lar difference is discerned between Judea and 
Samaria. The skyline of Judea forms an almost 
unbroken horizontal line; that of Samaria, much 
more pleasing in appearance, rises and falls in the 
graceful domes of low mountains. Geologically, 
as we have already seen, Judea, with its horizon- 
tal strata, differs essentially from Samaria with 
its slight bendings and warpings; Moab and Gil- 
ead differ similarly. A mere difference in the 
angle at which the limestone rocks happen to lie 
seems a slight matter. Yet to it is due in large 
measure the fact that Samaria was a kingdom 
apart from Judah, and that Gilead was the coun- 
try through which Christ was passing on his 
way to Jerusalem when he blessed the children. 
Unreasonable as it may seem, the same type of 
geological structure caused the Samaritans of 
the time of Christ to be despised by the Jews, 
and caused the people of Gilead to be stanch 
upholders of Judaism, as we shall later see in 
detail. 

Third among our east and west lines comes the 
fault of Esdraelon, a break in the earth's crust 
extending from Carmel southeastward to the 
Jordan depression, and continued on the other 
side as a bending of the crust. In western Pales- 
tine an upward movement of the rocks just south 
of the fault gave rise to the heights of Carmel and 
Gilboa. To the north the land was lowered one or 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 29 



two thousand feet, thereby allowing the forma- 
tion of the plain of Esdraelon and the Vale of 
Jezreel, the easiest of all highroads across Pales- 
tine. Southern Galilee, also, was lowered some- 
what, and thereby rendered relatively fertile and 
open to outside influences. East of Jordan the 
downward warping of the crust on the north of 
this line of movement sharply divided the plains 
of Bashan, or the Hauran, as the region is now 
called, from the wooded heights of Gilead. Thus 
this line, like the one to the south of it, was a 
boundary between provinces of diverse history, 
Gilead and Bashan on the east, Samaria and Gali- 
lee on the west. 

The last of the east and west lines separates 
Galilee and all Palestine on the south from Syria 
and the country of Damascus on the north. Al- 
though not a sharp line like the fault of Esdraelon, 
it is as clearly defined as the lines between Samaria 
and Judea, or Judea and the Negeb. It marks the 
change from the low plateaus of Palestine to the 
lofty mountain groups of Lebanon and Hermon. 
Near it is born the Jordan. Here, too, the Litany, 
the picturesque Syrian stream which flows in 
the hollow between Lebanon and Hermon, turns 
westward, and cuts across the western highland 
in a fine gorge spanned by a limestone bridge of 
nature's own workmanship. This northern line 
is the last of the bars which, as it were, gridiron 
the narrow north and south strips of Palestine 



30 



PALESTINE 



into little rectangles or quadrilaterals, giving to 
the country that wonderful diversity of physical 
form which is among its most precious assets. 

A realization of the nature of the many little 
sections into which Palestine is partitioned ex- 
plains how Judea could remain so separate from 
other nations when Palestine was the chief high- 
way of the world. The greatest of ancient trade 
routes led from Egypt, which then stood for the 
West, to Mesopotamia, Babylonia, Persia, and 
the remoter lands of the East. Not only the 
trade, but the armies of the world traversed these 
routes again and again. To journey from Egypt 
to the East without passing through Palestine 
was in those days practically impossible. On the 
southern edge of that country, as may be seen 
on the map serving as frontispiece, a great route, 
now all unused, led eastward from Egypt across 
the midst of the desert to Babylonia and the Per- 
sian Gulf. We know little of it in the earliest 
days, but when the Romans ruled the land it was 
thronged with caravans. One branch came from 
Egypt to the rock city of Petra; another passed 
across the Negeb from Gaza to the same point. 
Prom Petra a road led south to the head of the 
Persian Gulf and another eastward across the 
desert. A far more important route led up the 
coast from Egypt] through the plain of Philistia 
to the inner end of the mountains of Carmel in 
northern Samaria, and so by way of the Plain of 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 31 



Esdraelon to the low country of Galilee. Thence 
it crossed the wheat-fields and plains of the Hau- 
ran to Damascus and the lands, not only of the 
East, but also of the North in the days when the 
Hittites were great. All other roads from east to 
west or north to south were difficult. To reach 
Damascus or the other centres of trade, no cara- 
van would think of climbing the rocky valleys 
to Judea, and following its crooked trails, or 
scrambling down the rough roads on the eastern 
side into the stifling valley of the Jordan, toiling 
wearisomely out again on the other side, and then 
circling the hills of Gilead. Why should a caravan 
make so toilsome a journey when it was possible 
to traverse the smooth road through the fertile 
plain of the Philistines, cross the insignificant 
divide at the eastern end of Carmel, and pursue 
an easy way past the southern end of the Sea of 
Galilee, with nothing but low hills and rich plains 
to bar its progress? Farther north in Syria the 
roads across Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon or Her- 
mon are more difficult than those across Judea. 
Naturally, therefore, although some trade fol- 
lowed the level desert road to the south of Judea, 
the major part sought the comfortable route 
along the coastal plain to Esdraelon. Thus the 
physical form of the land caused abundant traffic, 
with all its manifold influences, to pass through 
Palestine; Samaria, lying on the line of the main 
roads, became almost an outpost of heathendom; 



32 PALESTINE 

while Judea, perched apart between two streams 
of trade, was able to resist corrupting influences. 

The topographic diversity of Palestine is only 
one of the two great factors which together explain 
so much of the history of this unique land. If the 
country were located in the latitude of Germany 
and in the middle of a continent, its diversity of 
physical form would be far less important than is 
now the case. The land is scarcely more varied in 
form than is southwestern Germany; indeed, less 
so, if we include a portion of Switzerland with the 
adjacent parts of Germany. The sunken valley or 
"graben " of the Rhine, extending nearly two hun- 
dred miles from Basel to Mainz, is of precisely the 
same type as the depression in which lie the Jor- 
dan and the Dead Sea. Although not so extensive 
or deep, it is well-nigh as remarkable. The pla- 
teaus of the Vosges in Alsace and the Hardt in the 
Palatinate may well be compared with those of 
Judea, Samaria, and Galilee in a corresponding 
location on the west side of the Jordan; and those 
of the Black Forest and Odenwald, on the east of 
the Rhine, correspond in many respects to Moab, 
Gilead, and the rest of the country east of the Jor- 
dan. The Sea of Galilee, save as the theatre of 
the preaching of Christ, and subsequently as the 
scene of most striking changes, is far surpassed by 
Lake Constance, through which the upper Rhine 
flows, just as the Jordan flows through the lake of 
Tiberias. For beauty, grandeur, and variety of 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 33 



scenery, as well as for mere size, the Alps are in- 
comparably superior to the relatively tame range 
of Hermon, and even to beautiful Lebanon. Yet 
in spite of all this, southwestern Germany and the 
neighboring parts of Switzerland do not begin to 
be so varied, or to exert upon their inhabitants 
influences so diverse as those of Palestine. The 
cause of this difference is found in the climate of 
the two countries. 

Along the Syrian coasts palm trees rustle in the 
wind; in the lowlands the prickly pear, brought 
by the Spaniards from old Mexico, spreads out 
its disjointed, spiny hands and opens its red or 
yellow blossoms; in the hot depression of the 
Jordan Valley the swish of green banana, leaves 
is heard above the gurgle of the little brooks 
which vivify bits of the desert. These plants, 
together with the olive, proclaim that the cli- 
mate of Palestine is preeminently sub-tropical. 
Germany, on the contrary, enjoys the temperate 
climate characteristic of the zone of prevailing 
westerly winds. The southernmost point of 
Europe, Punta Morroqui near Gibraltar, lies in 
latitude 36°, more than three degrees north of the 
Sea of Galilee, and almost as far north as the 
northeastern corner of the Mediterranean. With 
the exception of Florida, the southern half of the 
states of Louisiana and Texas, and a narrow strip 
on the south side of Georgia, Alabama, and Mis- 
sissippi, no part of the United States lies so far 



34 



PALESTINE 



south as Jerusalem. These regions, however, do 
not possess a sub-tropical climate in the technical 
sense, for they lie on the eastern side of a continent. 
In their latitude, 25° to 32° N., the trade winds, 
blowing from the east, bring abundant rain in 
summer, while in winter, just as in the more 
northern parts of the United States or in Europe, 
cyclonic storms travelling from the west bring suf- 
ficient rain. Palestine, on the contrary, lies on the 
western side of the continent, where the prevail- 
ing summer movement of the air is not from the 
moist sea, but from the dry land. Hence no rain 
falls for five or six months in summer, as is graph- 
ically illustrated in the accompanying diagram. 



1877-8 Year of Max.Rain 


o 


o 
o 


o 
© 


3 


c5 






C-l 


§ 


CO 






1869-70 » " Min. " 


O 

© 


8 




© 
© 


So 


'8 




CO 


TOT 




s 


§ 


Av.Monthly Rainfall 


© 
o 


© 


00 

©' 


pi 


61.0 


u ■ 

i 


164.4 


mM 


107.3 




CO 
CO 


©' 




July 


Aug. 


Sept. 


Oct. 


% 
SZ5 


a 


Jan. 


^Feb.. 


i 


Apr. 


i 


June 


, . num. 
■360 

300 

,240 

160 

120 

1 

eo 

00 


- / 






m f J 


18 


r ') 
i 

8?^p 


r i 

*■* 


>. 

\ 

> 

L. _ 


OS 







• Mean =» 662 m.mj 

— Minimum year 1869-70. S= 318. •' •« 

— — — Maximum, ft 1877-8. =* 1091 



Figure 1. 

Annual Distribution of Rainfall at Jerusalem. 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 35 



Of the average annual total of 662 millimetres, 
or 26 inches, only two and a half per cent, or 0.66 
inches, falls during the six months from May to 
October inclusive. The summer months have no 
more rain in the moistest years, such as 1877-78 
when 42.95 inches fell, than in extremely dry 
years, such as 1869-70 when the total precipita- 
tion was only 12.5 inches. The "former" and 
"latter" rains of the Bible, as is well known, do 
not refer to separate seasons of precipitation, but 
merely to the first heavy down-pours in Novem- 
ber and December, and to the last good rains in 
March or April. 

In respect to climate, as well as in other re- 
spects, Southern California is the region with 
which Palestine should be compared. So far as 
the continent as a whole is concerned, the two dis- 
tricts lie in corresponding positions and their lati- 
tude is almost the same. The southern boundary 
of California lies thirty-two and a half and Los 
Angeles thirty-four degrees north of the equator. 
The latitude of Jerusalem is thirty-one and a half 
degrees north, and the whole of Palestine is in- 
cluded between thirty-one and thirty-three and a 
half. Because of low latitude the climate of Pal- 
estine is warm, and in the lowlands enervating; 
for the Mediterranean, being small and land- 
locked, is easily warmed by the sun, but not 
easily cooled by the inflow of water from the 
main ocean. Hence it does not temper the air 



36 



PALESTINE 



as does a vast body of water like the Pacific, and 
along its shores for many months each year the 
damp heat precludes any great activity of body 
or mind. Thus the highlands, such as Judea, from 
twenty-five hundred to three thousand feet above 
the sea, are the only regions fitted to be the home 
of a really vigorous race. 

The sub-tropical climate of Palestine tends to 
increase diversity in another respect. The rainfall 
of more northern countries is derived largely from 
cyclonic storms which move steadily forward and 
deposit moisture in spite of topographic hin- 
drances. In Palestine, on the contrary, the rain is 
derived almost entirely from winds blowing in 
from the Mediterranean Sea; for those from other 
directions come from great expanses of dry land 
which furnish no opportunity to absorb mois- 
ture. As we shall discuss this subject more fully 
later, suffice it to say that the westerly winds de- 
posit moisture as they rise to surmount the pla- 
teaus, but cease to do so when they descend on the 
eastern side. Hence the amount of rainfall varies 
greatly in short distances. Where the main slope 
of the land is toward the west, rain falls in rela- 
tive abundance. Where it is toward the east, 
deserts occur. Accordingly the fertile land of 
Palestine is limited to the western slope and to 
the summit of the western highland, and to the 
corresponding portions of the eastern highland. 
All the rest is desert. Palestine is a mere fringe 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 37 



of verdure on the edge of the great desert, a strip 
of sown land on the borders of the waste. 

Because of the juxtaposition of the desert and 
the sown, Palestine has always been subject to 
invasion by the wandering tribes of Arabia. In 
most parts of that forsaken land life is impossible 
except for nomads who depend on camels and 
sheep, and wander from place to place. The fail- 
ure of the scanty rains of winter prevents the 
growth of grass for the animals; and perforce the 
Arabs must move elsewhere. The green strip on 
the edge of the desert offers the only available 
refuge in times of drought. Hence the Arabs 
invade it to the discomfiture of the settled inhab- 
itants. The spring of 1909 was unusually dry. As 
we journeyed through Moab east of the Dead Sea, 
we found that the Arabs had left their customary 
grazing grounds for lack of grass and water. 
From the eastern desert they had invaded the 
grainfields of Moab. On the south, for the same 
cause, they had come up into the plain of the 
Philistines between Gaza and Joppa. With the 
contempt of warlike nomads for peaceful pea- 
sants, they permitted their sheep and camels to 
fatten on the scanty crops of the villagers. The 
poor farmers drove the animals out; and occa- 
sionally some man more bold or more angry than 
his fellows shot an Arab; but the settled folk 
are always at a disadvantage. The farmer must 
live in one place and can readily be found bv the 



38 PALESTINE 

avenger of blood, while the nomad wanders no 
man knows whither, in places where the man of 
the fields dares not come for vengeance. Thus it 
has always been. Down through the ages the fertile 
lands bordering the desert have been overrun by 
the Arabs whenever hunger or pressure of num- 
bers has made their hard life still harder, — too 
hard to endure. Moab and the South have been 
overrun scores of times, and the rest of the land 
has sometimes been swept by invading hosts from 
the wilderness. Even secluded Judea has not been 
free; more than once, since first the desert cast 
forth the early Israelites, she has been over- 
whelmed, and new tribes have taken her hills for 
their home. So long as the moist land and the dry 
lie close together, the thin fringe of verdure 
known as Palestine will always be in danger from 
the devouring hordes of the desert. 

Invasion from the desert is not the only evil 
result of the sub-tropical climate of Palestine. In 
a country devoid of summer rains, and hence 
limited in the variety of crops, want or even fam- 
ine often prevails. If the rains of autumn fail to 
begin at a date early enough to allow the win- 
ter wheat and barley to get well started before 
the cool weather of winter stops their growth, 
the crops are greatly injured, as happened in the 
terrible year, 1869-70, illustrated in the figure 
already referred to on page 34. Quite as often 
they are spoiled by drought when the rain ceases 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 39 



in the spring before the crops have sufficiently 
matured. Hence the inhabitants frequently find 
themselves face to face with the famines so much 
more prevalent in sub-tropical countries than in 
those blessed with a rainfall distributed uniformly 
through the year. 

For ages the people of Palestine have been 
forced to live under climatic conditions which ) 
have continually kept them in a state of anxiety. 
In the past, however, this seems to have been less 
true than now. Through some agency whose na- 
ture is still in doubt a great change has come 
over the country. As to the reality of the change 
there can be no question. In all parts of Palestine 
unnumbered ruins show that once the population 
was more dense than now. In Judea, Samaria, 
and Galilee the terraces of vineyards, the cisterns 
of farmhouses, and the stones of villages strew 
scores of barren hillsides, or are scattered far be- 
yond the limits of modern habitations. East of 
Jordan and in the low south-country of the Negeb 
ruins are still more abundant than in the in- 
habited parts of the land. There, in places where 
not a vestige of settled life can now be seen, dozens 
of ancient ruins proclaim the former existence, not 
of petty villages, but of prosperous towns and rich 
cities so large that they were graced with splendid 
temples and theatres. The same is true around 
the Sea of Galilee, and for hundreds of miles to 
the north and northeast in Syria. In many places 



40 



PALESTINE 



the sites of the old villages are waterless; else- 
where the limestone hills are so devoid of soil that 
a single farmer, and far less a whole village, could 
scarcely find land enough to raise crops. Some- 
thing clearly has changed. Has it been the type 
of inhabitant? Is the present state of the country 
worse than that of the past because the idle Arab 
has displaced the industrious Jew, and the vacil- 
lating Turk the strong Roman? Has the substitu- 
tion of misrule and oppression for a just, firm gov- 
ernment caused the physical deterioration of the 
country? Or has nature herself suffered a change 
which has brought in its train depopulation, and 
all the miseries of the present unsettled conditions? 

These questions cannot be answered offhand. 
On their answer depends much of our interpreta- 
tion of history. Before discussing them, however, 
we must see more of this strange little land of 
Palestine, this least of all lands. We must realize 
its variety, and must see more fully how its di- 
verse parts owe their peculiarities to the grid- 
ironing of the land by geological movements 
north and south and east and west. We must 
ascertain how topography has influenced the 
location of highways and the mingling of alien 
races. We must also further investigate the cli- 
mate and determine how its sub-tropical character 
has caused deserts and fertile lands to be com- 
mingled, and has put the men of the dry lands 
ever in danger from famine and those of the moist 



THE LAND AS A WHOLE 41 



in still greater danger from the inroads of their 
hungry brethren. Then we must comprehend how 
Judea, in the centre of busy life, has nevertheless 
been the refuge and sanctuary of Judaism. Shel- 
tered among the rounded hills of their plateau, the 
Judeans were close to the other parts of their 
little country, and yet apart in safety. They felt 
the influence of the highly varied districts round 
about them, but retained their individuality. The 
traffic of the world passed to south and west and 
north, bringing them something of the busy life of 
the great world, but not touching them in such 
fashion as greatly to alter their mode of life. They 
adapted themselves to the dry and wet seasons of 
their sub-tropical climate, but were protected from 
its ill effects by half a mile of elevation above the 
sea. They shuddered as hordes from the desert 
pressed in over Moab or the Negeb, but their iso- 
lation saved them from the scourge. So for over a 
millennium they developed noble ideas of God and 
truth and justice, until the greatest of men came 
up from Galilee, and, taking the truths which had 
been fostered and preserved in Judea, transformed 
them into the peerless rules of conduct which 
form the basis of Christianity. All these matters 
must be discussed and clearly understood. Then 
we shall be ready to investigate the great change 
which has come over Palestine and all the lands 
about it, and to explain the difference between 
the Palestine of the past and that of to-day. 



CHAPTER III 



THE COASTS OF PHOENICIAN AND JEW 



Few closely associated names stand for more 
strongly contrasted ideals than those of the Phoe- 
nician and Jew. To be sure, the Jews of modern 
times, like the Phoenicians of old, are regarded as 
typical representatives of business acumen and 
shrewdness, but with them we are not now con- 
cerned. Our interest is in the Jews as moulded by 
Palestine, the ancient Hebrews whose supreme 
contribution to the world was a high ideal of loy- 
alty to a single God, endowed with the noblest at- 
tributes which man has yet conceived. The Jews 
who evolved these ideas were not traders, but a 
quiet, secluded people to whom traffic was far less 
noble than the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. 
Not willingly did they wander far from home. To 
them the sea was something strange and distant, 
something inhospitable and terrible. What the 
Jew feared, the Phoenician loved. Trade was his 
delight and glory. The sea was his friend and com- 
panion, even though it might sometimes cause 
him to suffer. Wanderer as he was, and cosmo- 
politan, he prided himself on having no crude 
fanaticism like that which he despised in the nar- 
row Jew. He was ready to tolerate new gods, if 



PHCENXCIAN AND JEW 43 



expediency so directed. Religion might be a mat- 
ter of fear, but at least it did not prevent him 
from enjoying the grossest material pleasures. 
Gradually, and with no knowledge of how great a 
thing he was doing, he spread abroad the art of 
writing, and gave us the symbols from which the 
letters on this page have evolved. If the Phoeni- 
cians had thought of the matter at all, which prob- 
ably not one in a million ever did, they would pre- 
sumably have said that their broad free life would 
influence the world vastly more than that of the 
bigoted, exclusive Jews. Their standards were 
material. They little knew that the secluded Jews 
were gathering thoughts and ideals which would 
one day be flung forth from the narrow bounds of 
Judea and Galilee to touch the world at a hundred 
points where their life touched it at one. 

The difference between the Phoenicians and 
the Jews cannot be ascribed wholly to the influ- 
ence of geographic environment. Nevertheless, 
the contrast between the two races was largely 
due to the dissimilarity of the portions of the 
Mediterranean coast north and south of Esdrae- 
lon. To be sure, the Hebrews had little to do with 
the coast of their country, but that very fact il- 
lustrates the influence of the two types of coast. 
North of Esdraelon the last important movement 
of the earth's crust depressed the land somewhat, 
while to the south elevation took place. From 
this arises much of the contrast between Phoeni- 



44 



PALESTINE 



cian and Jew. If conditions had been reversed, 

the Jews might have been famed as seafarers 
rather than as exponents of religion. 

North of Carmel and the fault of Esdraelon all 
the country of Phoenicia, or as it is now called, 
Lebanon, is mountainous. The only exceptions 
1 are a few narrow little plains lying along the sea- 
coast and separated from one another by rough 
hills which often come to the sea in bold bluffs. 
The length and breadth of the narrow Phoenician 
strip affords no fit location for a large town save 
on the seacoast. Elsewhere there is scarcely a vil- 
lage or even a hamlet whose stone houses do not 
climb hither and yon to find a perching place 
upon the steep slopes of Lebanon. No one can 
traverse the land from north to south without 
meeting constant obstacles in the way of rugged 
ridges to be climbed, or gorges and turbulent 
rivers to be crossed. 

The only possible route from end to end of 
Phoenicia is along the coast, but even this is al- 
most impossible in the face of an enemy. The 
difficulty experienced by invaders has led them 
to boast each time that they have entered the 
country. They have left their records on the 
rocks at the Nahr el Kelb, the River of the Dog, 
just north of Beirut. There, as in many other less 
notable places, cliffs rise sharply from the sea, and 
can be passed only by climbing painfully up the 
steep slopes, or by cutting a road in the face of 



PHOENICIAN AND JEW 45 



the rocks. In 1860 the French came to the coun- 
try to fight for the Syrian Christians, and helped 
to give them the autonomy which the brave 
mountaineers well deserved. There on the cliffs 
by the River of the Dog they have left a record of 
their deeds close to a similar record made by old 
Sesostris, or Ramses II, more than three millenni- 
ums ago. Between the days of the Egyptians and 
the French the Assyrians struggled at the passage 
of the cliffs, the Romans hewed from the rocks a 
new road better than that of their predecessors, 
the Frankish Crusaders were almost driven back, 
and Selim, the Turkish Sultan, built a bridge to 
facilitate the crossing of the river. All these me- 
morials cluster here because this was the sole 
path by which Phoenicia could be entered, and 
because the invader who passed the cliffs felt that 
some great thing had been accomplished. 

Among the mountains no army could ever 
move athwart the valleys. In June, 1909, the Yale 
Expedition went from the Cedars of Lebanon at 
Bsherreh, east of Tripolis, to Beirut. We kept 
back among the mountains in order to visit cer- 
tain springs where rivers pour full-fledged from 
limestone caves to thunder milk-white under 
splendid natural bridges. The three days' ride 
although delightful, was rough in the extreme, 
and most tiresome for the horses. Occasionally 
the mountain-sides were forested, in one place 
with young cedars, oftener with pines, and most 



46 



PALESTINE 



frequently with junipers. As a rule, however, the 
rugged slopes were bare and rocky in the upper 
portions, or wonderfully terraced for mulberry 
groves, vineyards, or orchards in the warm lower 
parts. Scarcely a mile of the three days' journey 
was level. As soon as we had climbed one winding 
trail, we led our horses down over the slipping 
stones of another. Our guide knew little of the 
paths. Again and again we stopped in a hamlet to 
ask some gatherer of mulberry leaves the way 
over the ridge to the next valley; but in spite of 
the most minute directions, we found ourselves 
continually turning too much to the right, west- 
ward toward the sea. To go down toward the 
coast was easy, but to climb back again toward 
the path higher up in the mountains very hard. 
In every case where the trail forked, the down- 
ward path was the well-trodden one, for all things 
go toward the sea. 

The view was like the trails. Downward great 
valleys opened inviting vistas, with frequent 
glimpses of the sea* or of green orchards and pros- 
perous towns near the coast. Upward the eye 
glanced from cliff to cliff, and rested on the bald 
heights of Lebanon, streaked with lines of snow 
in the little valleys. From the snow foaming 
brooks came tumbling thousands of feet, to be lost 
in the forests, or to be spread out by man to 
water the pollarded mulberry trees and pretty 
gardens on the top of some vast terrace of natural 



PHCENICIAN AND JEW 47 



rock. Then they gathered once more, to plunge 
down one or two hundred feet over the vertical 
cliffs of the hard layer which made the terrace. 
Mountainward the view of snow, waterfalls, and 
cliffs was grand, but not alluring. Westward lay 
all the attraction. Down there were the towns, 
the fascinating places where men gather to buy 
and sell. No Phoenician lad of spirit grew up 
without longing to visit the market town where 
his father traded; and every large market town 
was beside the sea. As the boys and their fathers 
descended the mountain trails, they soon emerged 
from the narrow canyons, and followed the tops 
of the ridges where the sea is ever in sight. No 
boy could live in Lebanon and not be familiar 
with the sea. If his village lay deep in a valley, he 
would surely climb the heights in search of stray 
sheep, or in boyish love of adventure. There he 
would look out on the sea, nowhere twenty miles 
away in a straight line, and rarely more than 
twelve. In half the villages of Lebanon the sea is 
visible from the houses themselves. Its pale blue 
plain seems to rise up from the land. It ends in 
a dim horizon, so distant that it ceases to be a 
sharp line, and fades into nothingness. In the 
Phoenician days, even as now, few of the people 
of Lebanon ever saw a real sunrise. The sun was 
high long before it overtopped the mountains. 
But all men saw the sunset; and every sunset was 
over the beckoning sea. Little the first Phceni- 



48 



PALESTINE 



cians knew of what lay beyond, but when the sun 
rode far to the north in summer, they could see the 
mountains of Cyprus standing out in silhouette 
against the golden evening sky. In summer, when 
storms are rare, the treacherous sea seems lulled 
to eternal quiet. Then the Phoenicians, looking 
out at the distant island, must have brooded over 
the smooth sea, and been filled with irresistible 
longing to fathom the mystery of the strange land 
off to the west. The Phoenicians were no idlers, 
for hard work is required to till so rough a land, 
and to climb its steep hills. They had no fear of 
the water, for no man fears that which is familiar 
from childhood to old age. In all ways they were 
fitted to become the first great masters of the sea. 

The familiarity of the Phoenicians with the 
sight of the sea, the fact that all roads lead to the 
sea, the inevitable location of the larger towns 
beside the sea, and the almost impassable wall of 
mountains which shuts Phoenicia off from com- 
munication with the lands to the east were not the 
only factors tending to produce a maritime people. 
Two others were, if anything, still more impor- 
tant. One was the insufficiency of the land for its 
inhabitants, and the other the form of the coast 
line. To-day, as always, Lebanon is on the verge of 
over-population, and her people are pushing west- 
ward. In England, and far more in America, the 
Syrian is a familiar figure. We know him chiefly 
as a factory hand or vender of small needlework. 



PHOENICIAN AND JEW 49 



The persistence with which the modern Syrian 
urges his wares upon the unwilling housewife is 
the same spirit with which the old Phoenicians 
gained wealth from the people of Spain. In both 
cases a race of industrious farmers has found its 
mountain home too constricted; and, being forced 
outward, has abandoned the old occupations and 
adopted the mercantile pursuits which are the 
natural resource of a wandering people. Syria 
is four hundred miles long and eighty wide, but 
the bulk of our Syrian immigrants are from the 
densely populated little district of Lebanon, 
scarcely eighty miles long and twelve wide. In al- 
most every village returned wanderers are found 
who speak English. In one place we lodged with 
a man who had made what he considered a for- 
tune in Cuba after the Spanish War. He was 
spending his declining years among the moun- 
tains in a newly built inn, which he vainly hoped 
would take the fancy of the Syrians as a summer 
resort. In an elevated valley one night I overtook 
a middle-aged woman and her old father whom 
she had come back to visit. When I tried to in- 
quire the way in incomprehensible Arabic conned 
from the introduction to Baedeker, she inter- 
rupted me in execrable English: "You American 
man? I American, too. What village you go to? 
You got friend there? How long you stay Amer- 
ica?" Apparently her horizon was so full of the 
idea of Syrians returning home that she took me 



50 



PALESTINE 



for one who had gone to America in childhood and 
had forgotten Arabic. The next day two prettily 
dressed girls among a group at a fountain looked 
truly American. They greeted me in perfect Eng- 
lish, and said that they lived in Iowa, and had 
come home to their grandfather's on a vacation. 
So it is everywhere in the narrow, mountainous 
little strip of Lebanon. The country is healthful, 
families are large, and the proportion of children 
who die is apparently small for an oriental land. 
Wars have never been numerous because Leba- 
non is so well protected by nature. Therefore 
population is prone to increase. The land is too 
rugged to support many inhabitants, no matter 
how industrious they may be. An outlet is 
needed, and the only outlet is by sea. 

In spite of all the other natural conditions 
which tend to render the people of the Phoenician 
coast seafarers, the Phoenicians would probably 
never have been such a maritime people in the 
absence of one feature especially connected with 
the fault of Esdraelon. A glance at any good map 
shows a marked contrast between the coast of the 
Mediterranean north and south of Mount Car- 
mel. To the south it is almost straight with no 
trace of anything which could possibly be consid- 
ered a real harbor. To the north irregularity pre- 
vails. As one looks out from a ship anchored off 
Haifa, the range of Carmel raises its wooded bulk 
to the south and gives a feeling of protection, 



PHOENICIAN AND JEW 51 



while to the north the point of Acre shuts in the 
bay so that scarcely ninety degrees of the horizon 
are exposed to the open sea. At Tyre one side or 
the other of an anvil-shaped peninsula offers a 
refuge from every wind. At Sidon an island lies 
offshore at the end of a little cape, and is tied to 
the land by a long bridge, beside which scores 
of small boats ride safely in rough weather. At 
Beirut a promontory projects into the sea farther 
than at Carmel, and ships can weather ordinary 
storms. No harbor is really landlocked like that 
of New York or Constantinople, but the inequali- 
ties of the shore are sufficient to afford important 
protection to all kinds of shipping. In the old 
days of small boats which could easily be beached, 
the degree of protection was greater than now, 
when the depth of water required by large steam- 
ers forces them to lie some distance offshore. Yet 
even in this respect the harbor of Beirut is not 
bad, for seagoing vessels can come close to the 
land. 

The importance of the irregularities of the coast 
may best be appreciated by contrast with the por- 
tion to the south _oj C armel . From Haifa to the 
mouth of the Nile, nearly three hundred miles 
away, not a single real harbor affords refuge. At 
Csesarea, in the north, Herod built breakwaters 
at great expense, and made a fair harbor for that 
day; but it is ruined now, and at its best was too 
shallow for modern steamers. A seacoast town of 



52 



PALESTINE 



over thirty thousand inhabitants ought to have a 
harbor, but Gaza, far to the south, is harborless. 
Down by the beach, and separated from the city 
by nearly a mile of sand dunes, a whitewashed 
custom-house mounts guard over a small wooden 
wharf and a few sailboats. Occasionally a steamer 
calls to carry away barley in exchange for a load 
of iron or cloth for sale to the Beduin; but ships 
large enough to go to sea must anchor a mile from 
shore, and can discharge their loads in lighters 
only in calm weather. 

At Jaffa, between Csesarea on the north and 
Gaza on the south, conditions are no better. 
Every tourist who has landed there knows how 
the boatmen surround the steamer, fighting for 
passengers with shouts and curses. And every 
one remembers, also, how the waves boil among 
ledges of rough rock, lying nearly flush with the 
surface of the water, and dipping gently seaward. 
Accidents are frequent when the waves run high. 
A much-quoted story illustrates the inhospitality 
of the coast of Palestine. A poor missionary with 
four children went to Beirut for a summer's rest. 
When he returned to Jaffa in the fall, the waves 
were so high that no boats dared venture out to 
the steamer. Of necessity he went on with the 
steamer to Port Said. On the return voyage the 
waves were again too high to permit a landing; so 
on he went back to Beirut once more. The third 
time the sea was still unquiet when the much- 



PH(ENICIAN AND JEW 53 



travelled family reached Jaffa; but this time 
boats came out, and the party left their imprison- 
ment on the steamer. The waves seemed bound 
to engulf the boat, but all went well until the 
breakers among the rocks were reached. There 
the boat capsized. No one was drowned, but all 
the baggage fell into the sea, and only a few pieces 
were recovered. Such accidents are so likely to 
happen, and are so often accompanied by loss of 
life, that the Jaffa boatmen naturally do not care 
to run risks in rough weather without the pay- 
ment of exorbitant hire. On a coast so devoid of 
harbors a seafaring people could never develop. 

The difference between the Phoenicians and 
Jews, as has been said, was due largely to the con- 
trast between the coast to the north and to the 
south of Carmel. The coast, however, rarely in- 
fluenced the Israelites directly. Their relation to 
the sea was determined by the nature of the plain 
of the Philistines at the base of the Judean pla- 
teau. When the country south of Esdraelon was 
elevated, a portion of the sea-floor became dry 
land. This is the Philistine plain. Because it 
lay between the Judean plateau and the sea, the 
Hebrews remained isolated. Let us examine this 
plain, this threshold of Palestine. 

To Mr. Graham and myself, as to the majority 
of travellers, Jaffa and the Philistine plain were 
the introduction to Palestine. After an exhila- 
rating dash through the breakers we were con- 



54 



PALESTINE 



fronted by the usual demands of the boatmen for 
more than we had bargained to pay. Having 
shaken them off with shrugs, we went from the 
landing into the slimy streets, and our visions of 
the Holy Land were rudely shattered. Crowds of 
ragged, unsavory orientals swarmed the cheap ba- 
zaars; strings of camels, with tufts of winter hair 
still clinging to their smooth sides, crowded every- 
thing else to the wall. The city seemed the acme 
of Eastern squalidness with nothing to redeem it. 
We almost determined to take the train for Jeru- 
salem at once; but having decided to spend a day 
in Jaffa and drive to Jerusalem the following 
morning, in order to get a look at the Plain of 
Sharon, as this part of the Philistine plain is 
called, we stuck to our plan. We did not visit the 
house where Peter is reputed to have seen the 
vision of the clean and unclean beasts, for doubt- 
less he himself would disagree with the guides 
as to its location. Nevertheless, we saw many 
things which are probably still as they were in 
the days of the Apostle. His lodging may have 
had a flat roof partitioned by walls a foot high 
into rectangles the size of the underlying rooms, 
as is still common. It surely had no pyramidal 
roof of red tiles such as those which now lend 
picturesqueness to parts of the city. Nor was 
it surrounded by a hedge of prickly pear ten feet 
high, for America was not then discovered. In 
his day, as now, however, the houses must have 



PHOENICIAN AND JEW 55 



clustered on the loose sand of the shore, or 
on the bluffs which the sea has cut in the con- 
solidated dunes of former ages; the waves must 
have boiled incessantly among the rocks, drown- 
ing the boatmen who ventured out when it was 
too rough; and in the unsewered streets there 
must have moved a throng more motley than 
the fag ends of humanity who now jostle one an- 
other, for in those days Joppa was not only a 
port, but was a great station on the main high- 
road from Egypt to the north and easf . 

A walk outside Jaffa gives a true impression of 
the Philistine plain. Leaving the wearisome town 
at noon, we went to the seashore. The beach is 
made of pure sand, containing a multitude of small 
shells an inch or more in diameter which have been 
worn into charming shapes by the waves; one 
picks up whole handfuls of the daintiest round 
bits, like veritable pearls, or tiny clubs polished 
most perfectly. Elsewhere almost uninjured 
shells lie to a depth of a foot or two. Under the 
water or cropping through the beach itself we saw 
old rocks of the same materials, — sand and shells, 
— proclaiming that the plain was formed under 
the sea in the recent geological past. Inland the 
plain is not perfectly smooth as it was when first 
elevated above the sea. Rain, frost, and streams 
have acted upon the soft rocks until now the 
scenery is diversified by low rolling hills between 
broad, flat-floored valleys. Some of the views are 



56 



PALESTINE 



charming, — white houses set among palm trees 
and an occasional eucalyptus, long hedges of 
prickly pear surrounding trim orchards of thriv- 
ing orange trees, some of which in early March 
were still laden with fruit, and green fields of grain 
adjacent to sandy wastes, where close scrutiny re- 
vealed acre after acre of leafless vines growing in 
drifting dunes. Sometimes we saw fig trees just 
beginning to put out leaves. Elsewhere the cactus 
hedges were replaced by lines of a small mimosa 
tree bearing lovely golden balls of tiny flowers. 
The little spheres, half an inch in diameter, gave 
out the most dainty, spicy odor imaginable. By 
the roadside or in the fields we passed bright spots 
of color made by white or yellow daisies, lupines 
of red, yellow, and blue shades, brilliant red pop- 
pies, and a score of other little blossoms. 

Once we wandered in an orange grove, where 
the fruit unfortunately had all been picked. We 
were trying to find the proper spot for a photo- 
graph of a house. A merry Fellahin boy with a 
double-barrelled shotgun was in the ploughed 
field in front of our desired house. Apparently 
his purpose was to keep the birds away, for among 
the sprouting melons of the next field several 
homelike scarecrows stood ready to help him. 
The Arab peasants of the plain are reputed to be 
good-natured people, industrious at times, but 
generally disinclined to work, peaceful and mild 
on the whole, but seeing no harm in the use of 



PHOENICIAN AND JEW 57 



force, if vengeance can be satisfied thereby with- 
out fear of retribution. 

The Fellahin of the Plain of Sharon and of other 
fertile parts of Palestine, such as Carmel and the 
upper part of the Jordan Valley, see in the Jew 
their greatest enemy. It is an interesting com- 
mentary on the conditions of modern Palestine 
that the only successful colonies of Jewish Zionists 
are in places like the plains of Sharon and Es- 
draelon or the highest part of Galilee, rather than 
in Judea or Lower Galilee, the homes of their an- 
cestors. Around Jaffa the Jewish colonies are un- 
doubtedly successful, so much so that the native 
population is sorely jealous. In enmity toward 
the colonists, they steal the fruit and break the 
branches in the orchards, turn horses into the 
grainfields, and break down hedges. Still, the 
Jews prosper. Irrigation and the orange tree are 
the secrets of their success, for the oranges of Jaffa 
are famous in Europe. Strangely enough neither 
the orange nor irrigation was known, or at least 
much used in the days of Palestine's chief glory. 
The time of the introduction of the orange and 
lemon is not known. Their less useful relative, 
the citron, is supposed to have been brought from 
Babylonia to Palestine on the return from the 
captivity. In Roman times it was cultivated by 
the Jews. Then, as now, the branches were used 
at the Feast of Tabernacles. 

Although the process of irrigation was familiar 



58 



PALESTINE 



in Biblical days, it was little practised in Pales- 
tine until after the time of Christ. The methods 
now employed in the Philistine plain, however, 
were apparently wholly unknown in ancient 
times. The modern Arab fellah, like all the pea- 
sants of the past,! raises his grain and figs with 
no water except that furnished by rains, but for 
oranges, lemons, and other more valuable crops 
he must have moisture during the long dry sum- 
mer. Accordingly he digs numerous wells, such as 
his ancestors used for drinking purposes, and from 
them obtains a continual supply by means of 
pumps worked by oxen or donkeys, which pa- 
tiently circle around day after day. The Jewish 
colonists have greatly improved on this by em- 
ploying gasoline engines, and secure a large 
amount of water at a reasonable cost, but only 
in the strip of land close to the coast. Farther 
back the supply of underground water is more 
precarious, because the underlying strata be- 
come more calcareous and less sandy, and hence 
are less easily penetrated by water. Moreover 
the strata slope gently toward the sea, so that in 
the porous layers there is a continual flow to- 
ward the low land along the coast. In former 
times the plain appears to have been as fertile as 
now, even without the help of irrigation. The in- 
troduction of a new process in order to rehabili- 
tate the country agrees with the introduction of 
the orange, cactus, eucalyptus, and other new 



PHCENICIAN AND JEW 59 



forms of vegetation in suggesting that there have 
been many changes since the days of the early 
Jews. It seems a strange anomaly that the mod- 
ern Jews should be most successful in exactly 
the places where their ancestors were [least so; 
while in Judea and the other parts of the high- 
lands almost no colonies have been successful. 
The Zionists are hopeful and energetic, but the 
task of restoring Palestine to its former condi- 
tion is probably impossible. 

Inland the Philistine plain changes rapidly. 
As we drove toward Jerusalem, the way at first 
led through orange groves where palm trees rise 
behind cactus hedges. On the left the Jewish Ex- 
periment Station, with its red-tiled buildings and 
fine assortment of trees, including about a hun- 
dred species of eucalyptus, makes a pleasing group 
in harmony with the spire of the neighboring Rus- 
sian monastery. Inland from Jaffa we passed 
Fellahin villages whose one-story houses of mud 
often bore a crop of green grass on the roof. The 
road avoids the villages, and one must turn aside 
to see them. As we walked up the cactus lane to 
Sarafan, we came upon storehouses for grain and 
straw, — conical structures of mud like great bee- 
hives, eight or ten feet high, with little entrances a 
foot or two in diameter at the base. In front of 
them we met a woman dressed in a gown of the 
universal dark blue cloth enlivened by a red yoke. 
She walked, as all the Eastern women walk, erect 



60 



PALESTINE 



and graceful, apparently undisturbed by the fact 
that she was carrying a baby in her arms and the 
baby's cradle on her head. 

Within five miles of the sea the orange groves 
come to an end; the necessary water for irrigation 
can no longer be easily procured. Trees diminish 
beyond this point and are confined for the most 
part to almond and olive groves. The contrast 
between the bright young leaves of the almonds, 
some of which in early March still bore pink and 
white blossoms, and the grayish green of the 
olives is most effective. Palm trees continue to be 
scattered here and there as far as Ramleh. On the 
whole, however, the plain is open; and its rolling 
hills are covered with fields of grain interspersed 
with freshly ploughed squares, or with delicate, 
pale blue patches of a coarse bean known to the 
Arabs as "turmus." As late as nine o'clock, when 
we went to look at the dainty flowers, we found 
the dew still heavy, for the cool of the morning 
persisted. 

Later in the season we saw the plain of the 
Philistines east of Gaza, and there, too, the scen- 
ery consisted of a succession of low rounded hills 
and broad vales covered with waving grain. As 
soon as the orchards and groves of the coast are 
left behind, variety of landscape ceases; but the 
country is open and friendly, a land of grain and 
cattle, where life is fairly easy. In the earliest 
recorded history the Philistines were more cul- 



NATURAL BRIDGE AT AIN EL LABEN IN LEBANON 




WOMAN WITH BABY AND CRADLE IN A VILLAGE OF PHILISTIA 



PHCENICIAN AND JEW 61 



tured than the Jews. Their rich plain, easily 
traversed, lent itself to early civilization. The 
inhabitants of such a place were naturally in 
touch with other nations. The great route from 
Egypt to the East, as we have seen, passed di- 
rectly through their land. They had learned to 
use iron when their Jewish neighbors in the hills 
were barely emerging from the age of bronze. 
They tried to prevent the knowledge of its use 
among the untutored tribes of the plateau. Ac- 
cording to the Biblical account, there were no 
smiths in Judea in those early days directly after 
the inroad of the Israelites from the desert. 
Therefore the cultured people of the plain were 
able to restrain the depredations of the high- 
landers by compelling them to come to the low- 
land for the sharpening of scythes. 

How different the history of Philistia and of 
Phoenicia. The plain by its openness and richness 
fostered civilization. It invited the trade and 
armies of the great world. It offered an attractive 
field for warlike conquest like that attempted by 
the early Israelites, and for peaceful invasions 
like that of their descendants, the Zionists of to- 
day. If the population grew too dense, it was an 
easy matter to move down the great caravan road 
to Egypt, or up to Syria, and settle in some neg- 
lected corner or work for some rich foreigner. No 
urgency forced the people of the plain to escape 
byway of the sea; nothing tempted them to 



62 



PALESTINE 



explore the inhospitable water and master it. Be- 
cause of all this no strong national feeling ever 
grew up in Philistia, nor did the inhabitants 
possess any pronounced characteristics which in- 
fluenced the people around them. How could it 
be otherwise? In such an open land, easy to 
traverse, and a highway of armies, the population 
was subject to constant fluctuations, the govern- 
ment was almost invariably in the hands of some 
strong foreign power, and the inhabitants were 
continually moving back and forth to other lands. 
The plain of the Philistines would play no role in 
history, had it not separated the Hebrews from 
the coast and served as a highway for the nations. 

Before we leave the subject, let us turn back 
once more to the geological structure which has 
given rise to the marked contrast between Phoe- 
nicia, with its strong individuality, and Philistia, 
with its lack of positive character. The difference, 
as has been said, depends upon the fact that the 
country north of the fault of Esdraelon has been 
depressed somewhat, while that to the south has 
been raised. Just when this process took place 
cannot be told in years. It was long ago, as mea- 
sured by human standards, — long before the ad- 
vent of man, but not long ago geologically. When 
it took place the Syrian mountains had not been 
worn to their present condition of deep dissection, 
for if such had been the case the depression of the 
land would have allowed the sea to flow far back 



PH(ENICIAN AND JEW 63 



into many valleys. Conditions were such, how- 
ever, that the sea was permitted to come up to 
the base of the mountains, and to enter somewhat 
into the mouths of the valleys. Thus bays were 
formed, such as those of Carmel and Beirut. Since 
that time much wearing away of the shore by 
waves has taken place, but still a fair degree of 
irregularity is preserved. In some places bays 
or gulfs have probably disappeared entirely from 
prolonged action of the waves on the enclosing 
promontories. In other cases erosion has left 
hard layers standing out as headlands or islands. 
The original process of drowning the coast, 
that is, of depressing it below the level of the 
sea, induced irregularity and formed harbors; 
the subsequent processes of erosion have tended 
on the whole to efface the harbors, but enough 
still remain to influence profoundly the history of 
the people of Phoenicia in the past and Lebanon 
in the present. Tyre and Sidon in their day rose 
to fame because they were seaports ; and for the 
same reason Beirut in modern times is the second 
city in Syria, and the fourth in the Turkish Em- 
pire, being exceeded only by Constantinople, 
Smyrna, and Damascus. 

South of Mount Carmel and the Plain of 
Jezreel the land rose when the break took place 
along the fault of Esdraelon. The bottom of the 
sea was raised and became dry land. On the 
smooth surface thus exposed the seashore was 



64 



PALESTINE 



naturally almost straight. Seaward the water is 
shallow; landward the old sea-bottom rises very 
gradually, forming the plain of the Philistines. 
On such a recently elevated shore, bays are al- 
ways scarce. The sea is eating inland, and is 
forming cliffs from twenty to a hundred or more 
feet high, such as those at Jaffa. In time the sea 
will cut far backward, and the coast will become 
slightly irregular because of differences in the 
hardness of the rocks; but that time is far, far 
distant. Its coming is delayed by the fact that 
silt from the Nile is drifted northeastward along 
the coast by the southwesterly winds which pre- 
vail much of the year. The harbors of Palestine 
are likely to grow worse rather than better; 
harbor works would scarcely be worth while at 
Jaffa or Gaza, the only two cities of any size along 
the coast; and when the much-discussed railroad 
is built from Egypt up the coast to Haifa, along 
the old trade route, both Jaffa and Gaza will be 
used by steamers even less than now. Haifa is 
likely to increase in importance, but it belongs to 
Phoenicia, although it lies no farther north than 
southern Galilee. 

Once, in the very earliest days of their king- 
dom, Haifa belonged to the Jews, but soon they 
lost it. They had never learned to use the sea, 
and so did not retain their only good harbor. 
They were not tempted seaward, as the Phoeni- 
cians were; for the waters of the Mediterranean 



PHOENICIAN AND JEW 65 



did not wash the base of their mountains. Their 
market towns did not lie near the sea, nor did 
their roads lead seaward. To be sure the sea was 
part of the view from scores of villages in Gali- 
lee, Samaria, and Judea. The Galilean coast, 
however, belonged to the Phoenicians long before 
the Jews came to the land, and it never changed 
masters. South of Carmel the provinces of Sama- 
ria and Judea were separated from the sea by the 
land of the Philistines, the low rich plain which 
the Jews coveted, but rarely conquered, and 
never permanently held. They looked across 
what was practically a foreign country, and saw 
the sea far away in the dim distance, fascinating 
perhaps, but not tempting them to conquer it. If 
the land south of Carmel had not been raised to 
form the coastal plain, and the sea had washed 
the foot of the Judean hills, great results would 
have followed. The Jews might have been sea- 
farers; their land would have been the highroad 
from Egypt to the East, for the main route of 
trade would probably have been forced to go 
through Jerusalem; the seclusion of Judea would 
have been destroyed; and the whole history of the 
country and of the world might have been differ- 
ent. 



CHAPTER IV 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 

In an earlier chapter emphasis was laid upon 
the fact that Judea is the heart of Palestine. 
Hence it may seem strange to devote no single 
chapter to that province exclusively, but there 
is good ground for this. The plateau, the most 
important part of Judea, is only twelve miles 
wide and forty-five long, and its structure is sim- 
ple. Its importance depends largely on its relation 
to the surrounding regions, and its peculiarities 
can best be appreciated by comparison with those 
of its neighbors. Nominally the four succeed- 
ing chapters are devoted to the borderlands of 
Judea on the west, the east, the south, and the 
north. In reality they are devoted in an equal 
degree to the relation between the outlying re- 
gions and the plateau, and to the points in which 
they especially differ. Thus the Judean plateau is 
the central theme around which the facts and 
descriptions, not only of the first chapter, but of 
four others, are grouped. The heart of the land is 
too important to be restricted to a single chapter. 

On the west, as appears in the diagram at 
page 22, and less clearly in the relief map form- 
ing our frontispiece, the Judean plateau is sepa- 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 67 



rated from the Philistine plain by some low chalky 
foothills. These extend as a discontinuous range 
for about forty miles from the Vale of Ajalon, 
close to the northern border of Judea in the lati- 
tude of Jaffa, to the southern end of the plateau, in 
the latitude of Gaza. The foothills are separated 
from the plateau by a valley or inner lowland, 
broken into a series of small narrow plains by 
saddles connecting the chalk hills and the main 
highland. This range of hills and the inner low- 
land constitute the Shephelah, the western bul- 
wark of Judea. We first crossed it on the drive 
from Jaffa to Jerusalem, described in part in the 
last chapter. As soon as the road leaves the 
Plain of Sharon, a little beyond Ramleh, and only 
twelve miles from the Mediterranean, trees be- 
come scarce; the villages betake themselves to 
the hills; and the grainfields are restricted to the 
broad, open valleys. Many hills disclose great 
ledges of naked rock; others are green with oak 
scrub. The most picturesque are crowned with 
enclosures of prickly pear surrounding groves of 
olive trees, roundly developed and standing well 
apart. At the ragged little- village of El-Kubab 
we reached the summit of the low range of the 
Shephelah, the debatable land between the Philis- 
tines and the Hebrews. Westward from the olive 
groves or scrub oak of its rocky hilltops one looks 
fifteen, or at most twenty miles across the open 
plain to the bright line of the sea. Eastward, at 



68 



PALESTINE 



half the distance, the rugged western escarpment 
of the Judean plateau closes all the view with its 
gray forbidding slopes. 

The nature and functions of the Shephelah can 
best be apprehended by a realization of the con- 
trasted nature of the plateau and the plain be- 
tween which it stands. From the sea near Jaffa, 
the plateau appears low and blue, almost enticing 
save that it lacks variety. Close at hand it pre- 
sents an inhospitable front, more hostile than the 
mere steepness of its slopes would warrant, but 
quite in harmony with the stony windings of the 
dry valleys up whose rivers of limestone frag- 
ments lie the only approaches to the summit. An 
invader from Egypt or Assyria would be loath to 
lose himself in the plateau. In the plain he can 
climb a low hill and look abroad on all sides for 
miles. He can see the location of towns and roads 
from a distance; he can travel without roads, and 
can always find his way with ease. He can pro- 
cure food, too, by plundering the prosperous vil- 
lages. He can post watchmen on the tops of the 
round hills, and see an approaching enemy at a 
distance. In the plateau this is impossible. The 
valleys are narrow and the sides are steep. A 
whole army might lie in the bend of a wadi, and a 
thousand watchmen could not see it. The valleys 
turn this way and that; and the fact that a valley 
appears to lead in a certain direction is no sign 
that it actually does so. The slopes are so rugged 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 69 



that to go straight ahead in a given direction is 
practically impossible; and the invader without 
knowledge of the country runs every risk of 
going where he does not intend, or of running 
into an ambush. 

Between the plain and the plateau the Shephe- 
lah stands as a transition zone. To one coming 
from the rugged plateau it seems open and easily 
traversed. To one coming from the broad plain 
it seems cramped and rough. It was the rampart 
of the Philistines against the Hebrews and the 
outpost of the Hebrews against the Philistines. 
There, in the early days, when the Hebrews had 
first conquered the plateau, and were striving to 
oust the Philistines, the villages of the two races 
lay side by side, and the Shephelah belonged to 
neither. Among the vineyards and olive groves 
of one of its pretty villages Samson grew up, in 
the Vale of Sorek, where the railway from Jaffa 
to Jerusalem now runs. Doubtless his comrades 
learned to respect the sturdy, long - haired lad 
when they found that he could outrun and 
outwrestle any Philistine lad from the neigh- 
boring villages. As he passed from boyhood 
to manhood, he grew strong with wielding the 
sickle under the summer sun in the waving 
wheat-fields spread out at the foot of the village. 
As he lay in the shade to rest at noon, he looked at 
the oaks on the hillside close by to the south, and 
wished that he could see through the hill to Tim- 



70 



PALESTINE 



nah, not far away, where lived a Philistine girl 
more fair than the fairest Jewess. Later, in those 
same hills, he killed the lion, and thought of the 
riddle which caused him to lose the girl as soon 
as he had married her. His own hot-headed haste 
occasioned her death, and began the long quarrel 
which brought such misery to the Philistines, and 
so much glory and shame to Samson. 

Back of the quarrel, as its ultimate cause, lay 
the fact that the Shephelah, by its very nature, 
belongs neither to the plateau nor to the plain. If 
a strong government prevails in one place and not 
in the other, the Shephelah belongs to the strong. 
In times of turmoil, like the days of the Judges, 
both sides lay claim to it, and neither owns it. In 
periods of peace the Shephelah inevitably gravi- 
tates toward the plains. It is easier to go down 
than to go up. Rich lowland cities and busy 
marts are more attractive than poor upland vil- 
lages and the barter of peasants. The highlanders 
themselves in ancient times were not the kind of 
people to foster intercourse. The hills of Judea 
lay within sight of the haunts of Samson's youth, 
and could be reached on foot in a short winter's 
afternoon. When he became famous the Hebrews 
of the plateau looked up to him as judge, but in 
the days of his early struggles they delivered him 
bound to the Philistines. Apart, as they were in 
their mountains, they had little to do with the 
outlying Shephelah. Samson, conversely, was 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 71 



rarely attracted by the infertile highlands. His 
thoughts were drawn toward the plains. It was 
the wealth of the Philistines which attracted him, 
and their false, enticing women. He was steadily 
drawn downward toward the ease and pleasure 
of the lowlands. Yet he hated the lowlanders 
and their ways, fought with them, and conquered 
them, and in the end succumbed to them. His 
life was typical of the Shephelah, a halfway land, 
close to Judea, and forming its outpost, but sepa- 
rated from it more than from the plain. 

Another great Bible story is equally typical 
of the Shephelah. In the later wars between the 
Hebrews and the Philistines the Shephelah was 
of necessity the chief battle-ground. There in the 
days of Saul, the armies of the two struggling 
little countries were encamped against one an- 
other on either side of the Vale of Elah. Below 
them lay the smooth corn lands of an open valley 
breaking westward between the forested chalk 
hills where the forces were encamped. Fearing on 
either side to risk an open battle, they remained 
in the hills for weeks, taunting one another, and 
boasting, as Orientals will, but never putting the 
matter to the proof. The story may contain much 
that is legendary, but it is very true to life. Then 
young David came down the narrow valley from 
Bethlehem. It was but a morning's walk for the 
sturdy son of the wealthy sheepmaster. If Jesse 
had given instructions to his son at breakfast- 



72 PALESTINE 

time some day in the fall, the season when war 
was most likely to take place, the young warrior 
might have been off by seven o'clock, and would 
have had no difficulty in swinging down the rocky 
Judean valley, and across the little lowland of 
the Shephelah, reaching his brother's camp an 
hour before noon. The fight admirably illustrates 
the difference between the plainsman and the 
highlander. The boastful plainsman relied on his 
size, his knowledge of the world, and the skill of 
the craftsmen who had equipped him with sword, 
spear, and armor, — in a word, on the wealth and 
culture of his land. The highland shepherd de- 
pended on the alertness of mind and body which 
he had gained among the hills, and the accuracy 
of eye and hand which he had learned in defend- 
ing his sheep in the waste places east of his home. 
Neither David nor Goliath had the faintest idea 
that either owed aught to the hills or the plains. 
As individuals they doubtless owed far less to the 
immediate influence of the physical environment 
in which they grew up than to inheritance and 
training. Religious sentiment, racial pride, and 
the character of their parents and comrades, to- 
gether with the subtle something which gives to 
each man his own individual character, unques- 
tionably were the controlling influences in their 
lives . But all these were moulded by environment. 
The highlander must climb vigorously or starve. 
Those who will not climb become poor and weak, 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 73 

their children are ill-fed, and their grandchildren 
are few in number. Thus from generation to gen- 
eration a selective process chooses out for the 
highlands a sturdy alert type, less cultured and 
less worldly-wise than that of the plains, but of 
firmer, finer grain. This was the difference be- 
tween David and Goliath, between the Hebrews 
of the plateau and the Philistines of the plain. 
Many other elements entered into the evolution 
of these two races, but none was more persistent 
or ultimately more powerful than the unrecog- 
nized but incessant pressure of geographic en- 
vironment. 

The Shephelah was not merely a transition 
zone between the plain and the plateau, a place 
where armies met, the bulwark of the Hebrews, 
the outpost of the Philistines. Separated from 
both plateau and plain, and belonging to nei- 
ther, it became for both a refuge from the op- 
pressor. Thither David fled from the vengeance 
of Saul, to take refuge in the cave of Adullam, 
if Aid el Ma to the south of the Vale of Elah is 
really the echo of Adullam. Farther south in the 
caves of Beit Jibrin the early Christians found a 
safe retreat when bitter persecution raged in the 
pagan cities on the cultured coast. 

The Shephelah is near to the busy life of the 
coast and yet strangely remote. We felt this on 
our second visit when we went to Beit Jibrin, or 
Eleutheropolis, from Gaza, the only real city of 



74 



PALESTINE 



modern Philistia aside from Jaffa. For two miles 
one April morning we rode through a lovely park- 
like suburb of Gaza where yellow barley-fields 
were thickly studded with fine gnarled olive trees. 
Their old knotted trunks, hollow and full of open 
eyes, tapered upward from broad bases and then 
expanded to spreading tops slightly whitened by 
myriads of small cream-colored blossoms which 
scented the air most delicately. From nine o'clock 
till noon we rode leisurely through a country of 
low sandy hills whose barrenness was in part 
redeemed by broad expanses of fertile grain- 
land, suffering somewhat that year from drought. 
Here and there we passed patches yellow with a 
species of low dandelion, purple with clover, blue 
with dwarf chicory, or white with flowers whose 
names we did not know. After a noon rest of two 
hours at the famous mound of El Hesy, whose 
layers of rubbish reveal city piled upon city, we 
traversed a beautiful rolling land in whose red 
soil wheat studded with white daisies grew thickly, 
in spite of centuries of cultivation. The land here, 
being close to the dry Negeb, belongs to wander- 
ing Beduin, an unusual circumstance; but on the 
hilltops small houses are scattered about, the 
homes of the Fellahin servants who till the land 
for their wandering masters. These houses are 
worthy of note in connection with the change in 
Palestine which we shall discuss later. Like those 
of many similar regions, they show the falsity of 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 75 



the frequent assertion that in regions such as 
Syria or Asia Minor districts sufficiently moist 
to give a reasonable assurance of good crops are 
often "nomadized." On the contrary, they are 
almost sure to be cultivated. They may or may 
not belong to the nomads, and may or may not 
be subject to plundering by them, but except in 
the rarest cases, they are cultivated and contain 
permanent houses, not at all like the tents of the 
desert. 

In an hour from Tel el Hesy we had left the 
Philistine plain and were among the hills of the 
Shephelah; and in another hour and a half were 
in the centre of its most beautiful portion at Beit 
Jibrin. Perhaps it was simply the day and the 
time of year, but the dew seemed heavier, the 
wheat thicker, and the olive groves more shady 
in this hilliest part of the Shephelah than in any 
other portion of Palestine. It is surely a lovely 
region. Because the hills are composed of easily 
worked chalk, they have been carved into a thou- 
sand caves. In one of these, or rather in a series of 
recesses opening into a large central cavern, we 
made our camp. In the starlight that evening we 
walked from cave to cave through dewy grass and 
grain, and lighting our candles entered the rock- 
hewn refuges of the early saints and the tombs of 
still earlier Phoenicians. In one place a dark hole 
in the hillside was lined with maidenhair fern so 
thick as to hide the walls and the slippery chalk 



76 



PALESTINE 



steps down which we almost slid. At a depth of 
about fifteen feet below the surface three doors 
opened before us in the gloom, one to left, one to 
right, and one in front. The left-hand door opened 
high on the side of a circular chamber twenty feet 
or more in diameter and of almost equal height. 
A flight of stone steps led spirally downward, but 
we did not descend far, for at the bottom the 
candle-light was reflected in dark water. The 
right-hand door likewise opened upon a flight of 
rock-hewn steps. They descended into a circu- 
lar domed room of great height having a diameter 
of nearly forty feet. High on the right some small 
chambers with niches designed for the reception 
of bodies opened from the main room, while on 
the left a great doorway led into the still larger 
room to which the third door at the foot of the 
outside stairs also gave access. In the middle of 
this last room a square well some three feet across 
proves that the caves were long inhabited. The 
edges of the rock at the mouth of the well have 
been beautifully fluted where the rope has rubbed 
against the chalk as countless leather buckets 
were drawn up full of cold water. The fluting is 
much like that on some of the columns in Indian 
temples where small grooves are cut in the sides 
of larger ones in pleasing variety. Perchance 
Zebina, or one of the other Christian martyrs of 
whom Professor George Adam Smith writes so 
graphically in his description of the Shephelah, 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 77 



lived in this very cave. In the second and third 
centuries of the Christian era monks came from 
Egypt and began the work of Christianizing the 
peasants of the Shephelah. So well did they suc- 
ceed that when persecution arose in the more cul- 
tured but still pagan cities of the plain and sea- 
coast, there were many faithful Christians, a large 
number of whom found a safe refuge in the hills 
and caves of the Shephelah. Among the young 
men not a few, in the ardor of their faith, went 
out exultingly to find that martyrdom from which 
the others fled. One of these was Zebina of Beit 
Jibrin, who defied the governor of Csesarea when 
he was sacrificing to idols, and suffered death in 
consequence. 

Other caves bear witness to more peaceful con- 
ditions, in days when the land was at rest, centu- 
ries before the time of the martyrs. Then the 
Phoenicians, who colonized the coast, spread back 
into the hills, as was natural when the country 
was quiet. Their caves are much smaller than 
those of the Christians. They were designed for 
the dead, not the living. They are only seven or 
eight feet high, and consist in general of three 
chambers, one in front and one on either side. 
On descending into the most interesting, we 
found that, except on the side toward the en- 
trance, the walls are broken by gable - topped 
niches, about three feet high and a foot and a half 
wide. They are close to one another, and open 



78 



PALESTINE 



into sepulchral chambers six or seven feet in 
length, which lie with their long axes at right 
angles to the main wall. Over the niches in the 
chief chamber a series of paintings is still visible, 
although much disfigured. First comes a man on 
foot with a long horn, then another on horseback 
attacked by a leopard, at whose heels is a plucky 
dog. Other beasts follow, among them various 
African animals, such as the giraffe, rhinoceros, 
hippopotamus, and crocodile. The cave was con- 
structed some two hundred and fifty years be- 
fore Christ, for the chief of a Phoenician colony. 
His tomb is a large recess at the inner end of the 
main chamber. This cave, quite as much as those 
of the Christians, reflects the character of the 
country. Down the easily traversed plain came 
the Phoenician colonists : up it from Egypt came 
the artist or at least the knowledge of the ani- 
mals of Africa. And both these elements turned 
aside into the safe haven of the hills of the She- 
phelah, a refuge in times of war, a pleasant retreat 
in times of peace, not far from the busy plain, and 
yet not wholly of it. 

Before we leave the Shephelah it may be help- 
ful to gain some idea of the geological structure 
which gives rise to the difference between the 
plain, the low hills, and the plateau. 

Examination of the diagram, Figure 8, at the 
end of this volume will make the matter clear. 
The diagram represents a geological section cut 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 79 



vertically across Palestine in an east and west 
direction from the seacoast to the plateau of 
Moab in a latitude slightly south of Jerusalem. 
On the left, that is to the west, is seen the level 
surface of the sea, and its gently sloping bottom 
composed of soft silts, sands, or calcareous mate- 
rials. The strata of the sea floor are continued 
eastward beyond the seacoast, and form the 
coastal plain, which, it will be remembered, is 
merely an uplifted portion of the sea bottom. 
Since the time of the uplift, however, certain 
changes have taken place. For instance along the 
seashore, westerly and southwesterly winds have 
piled up the sand of the beach into a belt of loose 
dunes, insignificant in the northern parts of the 
plain, but broad and hard to traverse south of 
Gaza. Along the coast the waves have eaten back 
into the land sufficiently to form the bluffs which 
in many places lie just behind the beach. Farther 
back from the sea a much greater amount of ero- 
sion has been accomplished, not by the waves, 
but by rain and running water. Little by little 
the rock of the old sea floor, only slightly consoli- 
dated, has been decayed by frost, rain, sun, and 
the action of plants and animals. It has been 
converted into soil which has been carried off by 
every trickling rivulet whenever rain has fallen. 
Thus in the course of hundreds of thousands of 
years the original plain has been carved into a roll- 
ing country of low hills rising from broad, flat- 



80 



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floored valleys. Close to the sea the process has 
not removed any great amount of material, be- 
cause the land does not lie sufficiently high and 
has not been above sea-level long enough. Far- 
ther back, however, the land lies higher, and the 
length of time since it rose above the sea is much 
greater. Therefore much more erosion has taken 
place, and the upper, softer layers of rock have 
been entirely removed. Accordingly, as one goes 
inland not only do the hills become higher, but the 
rocks belong to lower and lower formations, as the 
diagram shows. Finally a layer of chalky lime- 
stone is reached, harder than any of the overly- 
ing rocks. Like all the others it does not lie exactly 
horizontal, but dips somewhat toward the west 
and goes under the sea eventually. Even though 
this layer has been above the sea longer than 
those which lie to the west of it, erosion has in- 
fluenced it less because it is of more resistant 
character. Accordingly it has not been worn 
away so much, and forms what is technically 
called a cuesta. In it the valleys are narrower 
than in the plain, and the hills, in spite of being 
rounded, are decidedly higher than those to the 
west. Hence the westward-dipping chalk forms a 
range of hills running north and south, and this is 
the transition zone of the Shephelah. On the west 
the slope from the hills to the plain is gentle, 
because it coincides with the dip of the rocks. 
On the east the inward face of the cuesta is some- 



THE DEBATABLE SHEPHELAH 81 



what steep because there the forces of erosion 
tend to undermine the chalk by working upon a 
softer layer which underlies it. Along this softer 
layer the rock has been worn away so much that 
a discontinuous valley, or inner lowland, has been 
formed parallel to the cuesta. The lowland is 
interrupted by little saddles of soft rock not yet 
worn away, just as the cuesta is interrupted by 
transverse valleys such as the vales of Ajalon, 
Sorek, Elah, and others, where the chalk has been 
removed by streams. 

Along the line of the inner lowland a slight break 
in the earth's crust has taken place, whereby a 
hard limestone which underlies the chalk has 
been brought up. At first this limestone dips 
steeply westward, as may be seen in most of the 
narrow valleys leading up from the inner lowland 
to the plateau. It forms the rugged western es- 
carpment of Judea, which does so much to dis- 
courage the inhabitants of the plains from in- 
vading the highlands. A few miles east of the 
inner lowland the dip of the limestone becomes 
horizontal, and there, at the crest of the escarp- 
ment, the plateau begins. In the first chapter we 
found that between Samaria and Judea an analo- 
gous geological change takes place. In a later 
chapter we shall discuss more fully the effect 
of the hard horizontal limestone upon the people 
of the plateau. 



CHAPTER V 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 



The Wilderness of Judea, on the east, like the 
Shephelah on the west, stands in strong contrast 
to the plateau which it flanks. We have seen the 
nature of the Shephelah; let us cross the plateau 
to the Wilderness, an easy day's ride. The road 
from Jaffa to Jerusalem leaves the inner lowland 
of the Shephelah at Bab el Wad, or Gate of the 
Valley, but does not emerge upon the plateau 
until a steep ascent has been surmounted, and 
the Wadi Ali has been left behind near Saris at 
an elevation of about two thousand feet. Thence 
in a straight line, the distance to Jerusalem is but 
ten miles through typical plateau scenery. The 
road winds among hills with flat or gently rounded 
tops, separated by valleys with steep rocky sides. 
The slopes are diversified with scores of terraces 
both natural and artificial. Only the centre of 
the plateau contains comparatively broad fields 
unbroken by terraces. There the valleys are 
shallow, and some of the hills have extensive, 
smooth tops. Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and He- 
bron, the only three towns of importance in Judea, 
all lie in the small central tract of relatively 
smooth slopes; but they are near the eastern bor- 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 83 



der of the plateau; the roughest of valleys lie close 
beside them. 

Beyond Jerusalem a short two miles brings one 
past Bethany to the eastern edge of the plateau, 
where the steep descent toward the Jordan begins. 
On the route to the Dead Sea by way of the Brook 
Kidron and the monastery of Mar Saba, the road 
drops below the level of the plateau at once. The 
ride is familiar to many visitors to Palestine. At 
first a steep descent leads from the south side of 
the city past the rough mountain spur of the 
"Field" of Akeldama to the noisome Vale of 
Hinnom. The trees and grass which border the 
insignificant brook would make the scene attrac- 
tive, were not the stream obstructed by dozens of 
little dams behind which garbage and offal ac- 
cumulate. Doubtless the vile-smelling ordure is 
good for the cauliflowers for which Jerusalem is 
famous, but one is glad to see the brook dwindle 
completely away. Then, for a short distance until 
the olive trees disappear, the valley is beautiful 
in the fresh greenness of spring. The surround- 
ing country consists of bare limestone hills, 
slightly tinged with green grass early in the sea- 
son, but soon entirely brown save on gentle slopes 
where fields of grain occupy the deeper soil. With 
surprising care the Fellahin cultivate every spot 
from which their primitive methods of agricul- 
ture can wrest a little food. Judea, in spite of the 
small number of its inhabitants, is densely popu- 



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lated in proportion to its resources. Thousands 
of acres are cultivated, although the crops are so 
poor that the farmers of America or Europe would 
not deem them worth harvesting. As the fields 
become fewer the brown hills suggest velvet with 
the nap rubbed off. The women who scour the 
hillsides for fuel to cook the household supply of 
thin round plates of bread are glad to gather lit- 
tle weeds six inches high. Ragged shepherd boys 
with shrill whistling pipes perch among the rocks. 
They and their flocks proclaim the vicinage of the 
desert and of the wandering Beduin, whose tents 
shortly appear. Within five miles of Jerusalem 
cultivated lands have wholly given place to the 
Wilderness of Tekoa, where Amos herded his 
flocks . The region is a wilderness in the sense of 
a place which is uninhabited, but it does not 
abound in vegetation according to the common 
idea of a wilderness. On the contrary it is a real 
desert, — not the smooth sandy plain of childish 
fancy, but rough and rocky, cut by a score of 
precipitous valleys a thousand feet deep and one 
or two miles wide. No trace of tree or field is 
found, the slopes are parched and barren, and all 
the great valleys are waterless most of the time. 
The Wilderness of Tekoa is merely the northern 
part of a greater wilderness, that of Judea, which 
extends forty miles from north of Jericho to south 
of En-Gedi and Masada, with a maximum breadth 
of twelve miles. This barren rugged tract, like 



THE WILDERNESS OP JUDEA 85 



the Shephelah on the west, forms a bulwark of 
the Judean plateau. 

The geological structure of the Judean wilder- 
ness is illustrated in the diagram already referred 
to, Figure 8, at the end of the book. East of Jeru- 
salem the strata dip downward toward the Dead 
Sea for a space, or are dropped somewhat by a 
fault. Then, at an elevation of nearly two thou- 
sand feet below the plateau, they resume a prac- 
tically horizontal attitude, and form the shelf or 
step which comprises the Wilderness. The gen- 
eral slope of the step is eastward, but this is 
rarely apparent. The wet-weather streams which 
pour down from the plateau in temporary torrents 
during heavy rains have cut so many gorges that 
the original surface is much less noticeable than 
the steeper, newer declivities. Because of the 
general eastward inclination, however, rain rarely 
falls, and the wandering Beduin are often at a loss 
to find not only grazing but water. Like the rest 
of Palestine, the Wilderness depends largely upon 
westerly winds for moisture. From the Medi- 
terranean Sea, whence practically all the rain is 
derived, the winds are forced to rise steadily to 
the heights of Judea. Hence they deposit rain. 
East of the plateau, however, they descend, and 
are almost rainless. 

Misconception as to the relation of mountains 
to rainfall is so common that a brief explanation 
may not be amiss. The statement that winds are 



86 



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cooled by contact with mountains contains an 
element of truth, but is so far from the whole 
truth that it amounts to a misstatement. When 
air rises, no matter for what cause, the volume 
of air above it is of course lessened. Accordingly 
the pressure, which is merely the weight of the 
superincumbent air, decreases, and the rising air 
expands. With expansion gases become cooler, 
for the process requires molecular energy, since 
the molecules move in longer paths than hitherto. 
Energy can be obtained most readily by taking 
heat from the gas itself, or from surrounding 
objects, as is well illustrated in the manufacture 
of ice, where the expansion of ammonia produces 
a temperature far below the freezing point. Cool 
air, as every one knows, cannot hold in suspen- 
sion so much water as warmer air. When the 
west winds rise from the Mediterranean Sea to 
the Judean plateau, the air steadily expands, and 
grows cooler. It cannot hold all its moisture. 
Hence, in winter at least, rain falls in compara- 
tively large amounts. Conversely, when air de- 
scends, it is compressed and becomes warmer 
and more capable of holding moisture. There- 
fore as soon as the winds begin to descend to the 
east of the Judean plateau, they not only cease 
to give up moisture, but begin to absorb it from 
the soil, and the region becomes a desert. The 
faster the air ascends or descends, the more its 
capacity for moisture is affected. Hence the steep- 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 87 

ness of the slope from the plateau to the Wilder- 
ness and still more from the Wilderness to the 
Dead Sea causes great aridity. 

Aside from the tents of the Beduin, the only 
habitations of the Wilderness are holy places such 
as the Russian monastery of Saint George, cling- 
ing to the face of a cliff on the way from Jeru- 
salem to Jericho, or the Greek monastery of Mar 
Saba, ten miles farther south. Mar Saba is sup- 
posed to be the oldest monastic establishment 
still inhabited, the only possible exception being 
the monastery of Saint Catharine on Mount Sinai. 
In the early days of Christianity hermits took 
refuge in caves of the gorge of Kidron, where the 
winter torrents have cut a splendid canyon five 
hundred feet deep in a gently arched layer of 
unusually hard limestone. Later they built the 
monastery, one small room after another, with 
stairways at every turn. As one looks down from 
the windows, or peers over the walls of the little 
courtyards, hawks can be seen soaring in mid- 
air almost where one could drop a stone upon 
them. We were conducted about the monastery 
by a mild Greek priest who had spent a year in 
the factories of New York and Chicago, but 
found the life too strenuous. As he exhibited the 
caves and tawdry chapels, he pointed with child- 
like credulity to a picture of Saint Saba, first of 
the holy hermits. A little beast no larger than 
a cat rubbed its head against the knee of the saint. 



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It was a picture, so he said, of the lion which on 
three separate occasions carried off the holy man, 
but was miraculously prevented from eating him. 
Finally the beast became so tame that it ever 
afterward brought to the saint's lonely cave a 
daily supply of food and drink. We may laugh at 
the tale, but we cannot destroy its meaning. It 
shows how in all ages, the topography of this 
region, only eight miles from Jerusalem, has made 
it a desert, a haunt for wild beasts like the lion, 
for outlaws like David, and for hermits like Saint 
Saba. 

By good fortune the soldier who was to be our 
guide failed to appear at Jerusalem. Being 
obliged to trust to Ahmed, the horseboy, a negro 
of almost pure extraction, we obtained a vivid 
impression of the real nature of the Wilderness, 
and of its function in sheltering Judea from in- 
vasion. On leaving Mar Saba he led us north- 
eastward among hills of soft yellow limestone, 
devoid of vegetation, and much less rugged than 
we expected. At length, however, a turn to the 
east brought us to the head of the lower gorge of 
Wadi Kumran, cut in the same hard limestone 
which forms the canyon of Mar Saba. At once 
the horses found difficulty in descending the steep 
rocky slopes. It was necessary first to coax and 
then to whip them. Deeper in the gorge, half an 
hour was required to persuade the frightened 
creatures to scramble down a hundred yards. 



THE WILDERNESS OF JTJDEA 89 



Instead of crossing to the trail on the north, 
Ahmed had led us along a goat track high on the 
south side of the Wadi. Suddenly we turned a 
corner, and found that the valley ended, and that 
we were on the face of the escarpment west of 
the Dead Sea. Lofty cliffs towered behind us, 
while an almost impassable precipice dropped for 
hundreds of feet in front. At its base rough slopes 
of boulders descended to a narrow plain of gravel, 
beyond which lay the blue sea and the escarp- 
ment of Moab with its even skyline. The great 
fault which limits the Wilderness of Judea on the 
east is of such recent geological age that there 
has not yet been time to wear the cliffs to acces- 
sible slopes, nor to cut any valleys except impass- 
able canyons. 

To go back was out of the question. Ahmed 
evidently did not know the way, and sunset was 
approaching. Moreover he was so afraid of the 
Arabs of Tekoa, who had objected to our pho- 
tographing their black tents two hours before, 
that it would have required the lash to drive him 
back. To our surprise he found a track leading 
down the apparent precipice, and down this he 
forced the horses to scramble. Sometimes the 
poor beasts actually slid ten or fifteen feet at 
a time, with sprawling, clattering hoofs, which 
made a noise like a load of rocks pouring out of 
a cart. One horse rolled over on his back, and 
gashed the top of the saddle. Loose stones cut 



90 



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the hocks of the patient beasts, and a trail of 
drops of blood marked the cobblestones and 
boulders after we had descended the cliffs. By 
sunset, however, we were at the level of the plain 
twelve hundred feet below the Mediterranean 
Sea. In spite of the approach of evening, the air 
had been growing steadily warmer, and the tem- 
perature was now seventy-five degrees Fahren- 
heit. Again Ahmed lost the way, stupidly crossing 
a well-worn trail which we afterward found led to 
Jericho. We wandered for hours in the darkness 
through a waste of low tamarisk bushes, and then 
among thick thorns and dusty reeds. Once we 
heard the sound of voices, and Ahmed pleaded in 
vain for cartridges to put into my companion's 
empty rifle. Finally we came upon soft muck 
along the course of a little salt stream, and were 
compelled to make a long detour before reaching 
the carriage road from the Dead Sea to Jericho, 
where we arrived at ten o'clock. 

It was well worth while to lose our way, both 
in the desert of the mountainous wilderness and 
in the desert of the reedy, mucky plain. By so 
doing we were made to realize vividly the steep- 
ness of the main escarpment which separates the 
plateau and the Wilderness from the Ghor or 
"Deep," as the Jordan-Arabah depression is well 
called. We realized also the denseness and im- 
penetrability of the patches of jungle nourished 
in the midst of the saline Ghor by underground 



THE WILDERNESS OF JTJDEA 91 

waters from the plateau. We were made con- 
scious of the great separation between Judea and 
the country to the east, and of the part which 
the Ghor has played in preserving the Children 
of Israel as a "peculiar people." Of course, from 
the Ghor to the plateau there are better routes 
than the rough goat track which we took; but 
none are good, and even the modern carriage 
road from Jericho to Jerusalem is difficult. The 
value of our experience lay in the fact that what 
befell us was exactly what any invader who did 
not know the country would be likely to suffer. 
If the main roads were held by the people of the 
plateau, the enemy would try to advance some 
other way, and would encounter difficulties such 
as we experienced. If the Judean plateau, like 
that of Moab to the east, had been open to the 
desert of Arabia, its people could scarcely have 
remained so separate from the rest of the world, 
and hence could not have developed those ideas 
which made them so influential when finally se- 
clusion came to an end. 

Another of our experiences a few days later 
shows, however, that, despite its ruggedness, the 
Wilderness of Judea is passable by an invader of 
sufficient courage. From a camp at the northern 
end of the Dead Sea, we started one morning to 
move to Ain Feshkah, six miles from the head of 
the sea, on the west side. There a large spring, 
brackish, like most of the water around the Dead 



92 



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Sea, flows from the foot of limestone cliffs into 
a pretty bay fringed with reeds. We went along 
the beach, towing our collapsible canvas boat, 
— for that was easier than rowing, when we had 
a load. Some salt-gatherers beside a bitter lagoon 
accosted us. When we said that we were going to 
Ain Feshkah, they held up their hands in horror. 

"Don't go there to-day," they protested. "Do 
you want to be killed? Wait till to-morrow, any- 
how. But why do you go to such a place at all? 
Don't you know there is a battle going on there? 
Did n't you hear the guns this morning? If you 
go now, perhaps you'll find a dozen dead bodies 
lying around. It's the Beni Atrieh. They have 
come up ten days' journey from the south, and 
are stealing camels, and robbing every one whom 
they meet. They have a feud with the Sawahri, 
our Arabs here in the Ghor. Don't go to-day. 
Wait till to-morrow. They will be gone by that 
time." 

We camped a mile farther along the shore. Our 
men were not eager to go on, and a soldier who 
came that night with a message from the Mudir 
at Jericho said that he would not stay at Ain 
Feshkah for a pound a day, five times his ordi- 
nary pay when on special duty with spendthrift 
foreigners. The next day we went to Ain Feshkah. 
Through the field-glass we could see at a distance 
long lines of white sheep winding up the moun- 
tain-side in orderly files, while black goats were 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 93 



scattered here and there in disorder, although 
they, too, were moving upward. Arabs were shout- 
ing among them, and we wondered if they were 
Beni Atrieh driving away stolen flocks. Our man, 
Abdullah, thought not, so we cautiously landed, 
and found that the Arabs belonged in the neigh- 
borhood. They had come down from the rela- 
tively level part of the Wilderness near Mar Saba 
that day to give the flocks a drink, and were now 
going back to stay two or three days till the ani- 
mals again needed watering. They knew nothing 
of the raid of the day before. 

The robbers had gone off to the south by the 
way that they had come. The easiest way for an 
enemy to attack Judea or the Jordan Valley from 
south of the Dead Sea is to follow the coast as 
far as En-Gedi, or Ain Jidi, as it is now called, and 
then strike up toward Hebron or Jerusalem; or 
else continue along the great step at the level 
of Mar Saba, and descend to the Dead Sea once 
more at Ain Feshkah. To follow the shore all 
the way from south to north is impossible, as the 
water beats against impassable cliffs. Twice in 
Hebrew history we hear of invasions by this route. 
Once at the dawn of history, Chedorlaomer, King 
of Elam, came up to chastise the kinglets of 
Sodom and Gomorrah for rebellion. Later, in 
the reign of Jehoshaphat, the Moabites and Am- 
monites, having passed south of the Dead Sea, 
gathered at En-Gedi to attack Jerusalem. No 



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one would follow this route often, however, or 
without some strong inducement. By reason of 
many valleys, the route, even at the inner edge 
of the Wilderness, is extremely hard for the camels 
upon which the nomads rely so completely; and 
mounted invaders would be at a great disad- 
vantage if they were forced to flee from the high- 
landers. In modern days the Beni Atrieh and 
their kin often leave their camels behind, and 
come up on foot. They may attack their fellow 
nomads of the hot Ghor, but not the villages of 
the plateau* At most they dare do nothing more 
than drive off a few animals which have been 
brought far into the Wilderness. 

The ancient invaders of the Wilderness of Judea 
met with one difficulty which does not confront 
the modern Arabs. They were obliged to pass 
inhabited villages. In the past, according to the 
Book of Joshua, the Wilderness contained "six 
cities with their villages." Where five of the 
cities lay we cannot even guess. En-Gedi alone 
is known. Its present desolation and the total 
disappearance of the others lead naturally to a 
discussion of the great change which has over- 
taken Palestine. I shall defer this, however, until 
a further consideration of the present character- 
istics of the land has prepared us to appreciate 
its condition in the past. 

No characteristic of the Wilderness of Judea is 
more marked than its extreme aridity This can 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 95 



best be realized by contrast with the Shephelah, 
on the opposite flank of the plateau. We have 
already seen how marked a change takes place 
in a single day's journey from the Shephelah at 
Wadi Ali through Jerusalem to Mar Saba. Far- 
ther south in the latitude of Hebron and En- 
Gedi, where the Judean plateau is highest, the 
contrast between the two bulwarks of the plateau 
and between the plateau itself and either bulwark 
is still more marked. We came to En-Gedi from 
Eleutheropolis in the greenest, pleasantest part 
of the Shephelah, where the Phoenician colonists 
imported Egyptian art in times of peace, and 
Christian martyrs found refuge in a later time 
of stress. Leaving Beit Jibrin, as the village near 
the cave of Zebina is now called, we wandered 
till noon of a spring day among verdant hills and 
valleys, amid waving fields of wheat, or over 
slopes dotted with villages and ruins set among 
graceful olive trees. Often we traversed untilled 
rocky hills, but even there green grass and low 
bushes, interspersed with gay flowers, furnished 
pasturage to flocks of peaceful sheep. Then we 
left the fair Shephelah with its perennial brooks, 
and climbed a narrow valley where the horses 
stumbled among loose bits of limestone, a char- 
acteristic approach to the Judean plateau. When 
we emerged upon the top of the plateau about 
five miles north of Hebron, the view at first seemed 
to consist chiefly of stones, far different from the 



96 



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green hills farther west, — stones in heaps, stones 
in walls of fields, stones on the ground and in the 
paths, and stones forming the chief material in 
the occasional houses. Only when we climbed 
upon the walls or on some other elevation and 
looked down did we get any sight of the little 
fields of grain, the vineyards just coming into leaf, 
and the fig trees preparing to blossom. Clearly 
the man who would prosper in so sterile a region 
must work from sunrise to sunset. 

In the cool invigorating air of the spring after- 
noon we rode on to Hebron, highest and most 
flourishing of Judean cities, — a pretty place, set 
on the tongue at the junction of two valleys, and 
looking down the fertile main valley. On every 
side the slopes above the town show the inevitable 
terraces. Wherever numerous small springs fur- 
nish water for irrigation, the staple crops of grain, 
olives, and figs are supplemented by luxuries such 
as vegetables, apricots, and other fruits. From 
below, the view is forbidding, consisting largely 
of stone walls; but from above, when one looks 
down on the green terraces, it is as fair as heart 
could wish. The reason for the fertility is mani- 
fest. Hebron lies over three thousand feet above 
the sea, and the hills around it rise to nearly 
thirty-four hundred feet, or seven hundred feet 
higher than the Mount of Olives. The rainfall is 
correspondingly great, and the temperature low 
enough to diminish evaporation. 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 97 



We spent the night at Beni Na'im, a little vil- 
lage perched high on the eastern edge of the 
plateau. Until we announced that we were go- 
ing to Beni Na'im, our escort, a soldier from Beer- 
sheba, mounted on a swift dromedary, had been 
willing and obliging. Then he became most dis- 
agreeable. He told lies about the bad roads, the 
wicked people whom we should meet, the danger 
of getting lost, and the probability that the great 
distance would prevent our arrival before mid- 
night. He hung behind, and tried to delay us 
continually. In short, he practised every mean 
trick known to the oriental in order to force delay. 
It was only when he found that we were going to 
Beni Na'im if it took all night, that he brought 
himself to the simple expedient of telling the truth. 
It seems that four years previously the people of 
Beni Na'im had indulged in one of the quarrels 
which are always taking place between the no- 
mads and the villagers on the borders of cultiva- 
tion. Both sides claimed the right to cultivate 
certain lands lying about fifteen miles south of 
Beni Na'im near the ruins of Arad. Fighting en- 
sued, whereupon the Turkish government, in its 
accommodating fashion, stepped in and said, "If 
you cannot agree and stop fighting, we will take 
the land away from both of you." This it pro- 
ceeded to do. A three-cornered fight ensued, 
and one soldier, four Arabs, and fourteen vil- 
lagers were killed. Our soldier, who was then sta- 



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tioned at Hebron, took a prominent part in the 
killing, and the people of Beni Na'im swore ven- 
geance. Naturally the soldier asked the govern- 
ment to transfer him to another place. Now, 
when I proposed to take him into the midst of 
his enemies, he dared not disobey and dared not 
go. Yet it was only after a day of lying that he 
could bring himself to tell the truth. Then, of 
course, I dismissed him. The incident is worth 
relating, not only as illustrating the character of 
the present inhabitants of Palestine, but as show- 
ing how the southern and eastern borders of 
Judea are in danger from the hungry sons of the 
desert. 

Arriving at Beni Na'im, we found the village 
deserted, for all the inhabitants had removed to 
the harvest fields, as is their custom in summer. 
After sleeping in the streets, we resumed our way 
eastward, down into the Wilderness of Judea. 
The plateau had seemed barren compared with 
the Shephelah, but now, as we entered the hot, 
dry Wilderness, it seemed relatively fertile. At 
noon we were in a valley about twelve hundred 
feet above the level of the Mediterranean Sea and 
twenty-three hundred feet above the Dead Sea. 
Utter desolation ruled the scene. A broad ex- 
panse of gravel lay where the brook ought to be. 
Burning tracts of pebbly soil, bearing nothing 
but a few discouraged bushes, filled the rest of 
the broad valley bottom, and equally barren hills 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 99 



rose on either side. Mr. Graham compared the 
great slopes of talus which cloaked the lower part 
of the hills below the beetling cliffs to huge ash 
heaps, and the scattered little bushes to a sprin- 
kling of rusty tin cans. Only twenty-four hours 
previously we had been at the same elevation in 
the green Shephelah. It seemed incredible that 
two regions so diverse could lie but twenty-five 
miles apart, an easy day's journey for a footman. 
Contrast the two accompanying pictures. One 
was taken the morning of April 27, and the other 
near noon on April 28. Between them, in the 
short space of twenty-five miles, lies the entire 
Judean plateau, and the slopes which lead up to 
it on either side. 

At two o'clock, soon after the desert picture 
was taken, we peered down upon En-Gedi from 
the brink of the main escarpment. The Dead 
Sea lay almost under foot, so steep is the descent. 
While the caravan toiled down a rocky stairway, a 
descent of twelve hundred feet, I climbed out upon 
the rocks to see what lay directly at the foot of the 
escarpment. There, some six or seven hundred 
feet above the sea, a number of steeply sloping 
fans of boulders and gravel have been deposited 
by winter torrents in the form of flat cones be- 
tween the cliffs and the sea. Like vast hands 
they spread themselves out, with sunken hollows 
between the gaunt bones, s and stubby deltaic fin- 
gers projecting into the sea. On the northern 



100 



PALESTINE 



fans lines of green, like delicate veins, start from 
two spots near the wrist, and carry water down- 
ward to a few little patches of cultivation ap- 
pearing scarcely larger than the knuckles on the 
back of the hand. At the foot of the execrable, 
winding descent we dropped down in the shade 
beside the clear rushing water of a great spring, 
and blessed the little oasis. We had read of the 
beauty of En-Gedi, its "rush of water," its "river 
of verdure," and its "brakes of reeds and high 
bushes, with a few great trees." Yet the verdure 
is limited to the space of a few hundred feet, 
the bushes are dusty and ragged, weeds make up 
a large part of the vegetation, and the lukewarm 
water has a temperature of about eighty degrees. 
Ancient accounts extol the beauty of the palms 
and gardens of the oasis, and ruins of walls in- 
dicate that once every available scrap of land 
for a mile or more along the shore and back as 
far as the cliffs was cultivated with greatest care; 
yet to-day the only signs of tillage are a few un- 
kempt cucumber fields. En-Gedi's present fame 
for beauty is due solely to the contrast which it 
presents to its surroundings. No one can reach 
it without being thirsty and tired. An hour before 
reaching the edge of the escarpment, we had 
met half a dozen Arabs carrying cucumbers to 
Jerusalem on donkeys. We were so thirsty and 
the cucumbers looked so green and fresh that 
we bought a liberal supply. I personally ac- 




GATHERING BEANS IN AN OLIVE GROVE IN THE SHEPHELAH 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 101 



counted for six of no great size, but still felt 
thirsty. The cucumber in this part of the world 
is looked upon as a fruit, and one can eat it freely 
without harm. We should not have felt so thirsty 
had not Ali, the cook, with oriental shiftlessness, 
disobeyed orders, and failed to fill the water- 
bottles. We had passed a well since leaving Beni 
Na'im, but could get no water, as it had been 
carefully covered. We burned away a mass of 
thorns, but without a crowbar and rope found it 
impossible to remove the large rock which stopped 
the mouth. In spite of the cucumbers eight hours 
in the desert sun made us extremely thirsty. So 
when we had descended the slippery limestone 
slope to the spring, and had thrown ourselves 
down under the trees in a temperature of ninety- 
seven degrees, to us, as to every one else, En- 
Gedi seemed beautiful, although we knew it to 
be desolate. 

To appreciate the desolation of En-Gedi, one 
must wander for a few hot, weary hours among 
the ruins. The cultivated area at present is not a 
tithe of what it once was. So carefully was every 
bit of land utilized in ancient days that little 
patches ten feet wide were thought worthy of 
retaining walls of equal height. Terraces extend 
along the shore for a mile, and water was brought 
not only from the present springs, but from 
others which are now dry, and from a large wadi 
to the south. The limits of cultivation appear 



102 



PALESTINE 



to have been set only by the amount of available 
land, for the terraces extend as far as possible 
along the shore on either side of the main fans. 
It is noticeable that cultivation ceased abruptly 
at a height of about fifteen feet above the sea, 
which suggests that when En-Gedi was aban- 
doned, the level of the Dead Sea was to that extent 
higher than now. 

When En-Gedi was famous for its palms and 
its vines, it must have been a little paradise. Its 
canals all ran with water, its terraces were cov- 
ered with greenery, and its steep streets were 
filled with busy people driving donkeys laden 
with the produce of the soil. To-day Ain Jidi, 
to use the modern name, is uninhabited. We saw 
no one there on the afternoon of our arrival, but 
in the morning an Arab appeared. He had hid- 
den the night before, fearing that we might rob 
him of his knife and flint and ancient rags; he had 
not seen that we were "Franks." About fifteen 
people raise cucumbers here, he said, but dare 
not cultivate any crop which would require them 
to stay long, because their enemies would rob 
them. Only four or five days before our visit a 
hostile clan drove off five or six donkeys belong- 
ing to the Arabs of En-Gedi. The cucumber peo- 
ple use all the water of the main springs, but 
might get as much more from the big wadi to 
the south, so the man said, if they were not afraid 
that if they built a canal their enemies would reap 



THE WILDERNESS OF JUDEA 103 

the benefit. Yet even if all the available water 
were utilized, it would be utterly impossible to 
cultivate as much land as was formerly under 
irrigation. Perhaps a fifth might be cultivated; 
certainly nothing like half. For the present we 
shall not enter further into the discussion of the 
change which has overwhelmed En-Gedi. It shares 
the fate not only of the Wilderness of Judea, but 
of many other wildernesses, and all alike are full 
of desolation. 



CHAPTER VI 



THE PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 



Ten or fifteen miles south of Hebron the Judean 
plateau begins to fall off toward the "Negeb," 
the "South," as it is translated in the Author- 
ized Version, the "Parched Land," as it should be. 
The region is an uninhabited desert with no per- 
manent villages except Beersheba and the gov- 
ernment post of Aujeh. Bounded on the east 
by the Ghor, on the north by the Judean plateau 
and the Philistine plain, and on the west by the 
sea, it extends southward indefinitely to merge 
into the Tih, the plateau of northern Sinai. 
Though somewhat mountainous in the east along 
the borders of the Ghor, most of the Negeb con- 
sists of low hills of gentle slope decreasing in al- 
titude toward the coast. The absence of high 
mountains or sudden ascents reinforces the south- 
ern latitude of the region in rendering the rain- 
fall slight. Hence the Parched Land deserves its 
name. The unscientific traveller finds it a dreary 
region almost devoid of human interest. The 
scientist, however, becomes interested in the 
evidences of a former dense population, and in 
the effect of former fertility in protecting Judea 
from invasion on the south. 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 105 

A journey from Edom to Hebron across the 
northeastern corner of the Negeb introduced us 
to the country. Our acquaintance was continued 
by a ride from Hebron southwestward through 
Beersheba to Aujeh on the Egyptian frontier, 
and then north to Gaza. On the map Edom 
appears close to Judea. The steepness of the 
escarpment which faces the Negeb on the west 
of Edom, however, and the lack of water and 
danger from robbers in the Parched Land itself, 
widely separate the two plateaus. To reach 
Hebron the modern Edomites prefer to go far 
north around the Dead Sea, rather than face 
the difficulties and dangers of the direct road 
across the Negeb. At Tafileh, high in northern 
Edom, we searched for a guide to Hebron. Mes- 
sengers sent out by the local officials scoured the 
town in vain. One man after another refused to 
go. Most knew nothing of the road, although 
Hebron is but fifty-five miles distant; and the 
few who knew, dared not return alone. We had 
almost decided to find our way guideless, when 
a young man named Faris agreed to accompany 
us for twice the usual compensation. "This man 
is exactly the kind for you," remarked the chief 
of police triumphantly. "He is a very bad man, 
a robber, and not afraid of anything. Look out 
that he does not lead you among robbers." 

By noon we had travelled two thirds of the 
day's march horizontally, and hoped to make an 



106 



PALESTINE 



early camp near the Dead Sea, ready to enter 
the Negeb in the morning. Vertically, however, 
only a third of our march was completed; there 
remained a descent of three thousand feet down 
the rugged Edomite escarpment of red sandstone. 
Apparently we must jump straight over the 
precipices; but hour after hour the road wriggled 
this way and that in a way that would have made 
us giddy, had we not been forced to proceed with 
painful slowness. Sometimes we sprang from 
boulder to boulder, while the horses picked their 
way as best they could. Again we traversed 
smooth sloping rocks easy for the men, but most 
difficult for horses, with no hands to aid them 
when they slip. The beasts kept their footing 
remarkably. Several times they half fell, but 
only once with serious results. Then the weak- 
est horse became wedged between two masses 
of solid rock in such a way that he could not get 
up. Finding that the caravan had stopped, I 
went back and found the men stupidly beating 
him. They were caravan men by profession, and 
had been used to horses all their lives, but they 
seemed to think it better to kill the horse with 
blows than go to the labor of unloading him. 
Even without his load he could not rise. Only by 
putting a rope under him, and lifting the front 
part of his body could we get him up so that he 
could keep his footing on the slippery stones. 
When we thought ourselves at the bottom, an- 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 107 



other steep bench dropped off in front of us, and 
all our troubles began again. In seven years of 
travel in Asia I remember no more frightful road. 
We reached the bottom long after nightfall, weary 
not only from walking but from the heat, which 
had increased to a temperature of ninety in the 
latter part of the long descent. To make matters 
worse, although off to the northwest over the 
Dead Sea and the Wilderness of Judea the sky 
was almost clear, clouds had been gathering along 
the top of the eastern escarpment, and an hour 
or two after sunset rain began to fall. We could 
not find the Arabs of the Ghor, who live in mis- 
erable little tents in the oases where streams from 
the eastern plateau flow out upon the floor of the 
Arabah. Therefore we camped as best we could. 
The men were soaked that night, for they had no 
protection. 

The next day, after prolonged search for the 
trail among dense reeds, grasses, and tamarisks, 
we spent two hours in riding three or four miles 
westward across the Sebka, to the borders of the 
Negeb. The Sebka is a plain of saline clay at the 
southern end of the Dead Sea. Not long ago it 
was part of the sea; and the soil is still so saline 
that plants grow only in occasional places where 
streams have partially washed out the salt. The 
rain had made the clay not only dangerously slip- 
pery, but so soft that we were obliged to make 
constant detours around spots where the horses 



108 



PALESTINE 



would have been mired. As we approached the 
west side, the mud was noticeably less soft, for less 
rain had fallen there. Reaching the edge of the 
Sebka, we turned northward along its western 
border, passing a few springs so saline that we 
did not try to drink them, nor let our horses 
drink. Then we rode along the west coast of the 
Dead Sea, past the famous Jebel Usdum, a great 
mass of lacustrine deposits, partly clay and partly 
salt, laid down thousands of years ago by the 
Dead Sea when it stood much higher than now. 
Usdum has been supposed to preserve the name 
of Sodom, but there is strong reason to believe 
that Sodom was at the other end of the sea. At 
five o'clock we reached the ruins of a small me- 
diaeval castle in the mouth of the narrow gorge 
of Zuweira, which sometimes, although wrongly, 
I think, has been supposed to be Zoar. Here 
we expected to camp, but the rocky pool, where 
water is generally found, contained only a cup- 
ful for the men, and none for the horses. Evi- 
dently it had not rained here the night before, nor 
for many days. Faris hoped to find water two 
hours ahead; but after trudging an hour till sun- 
set and two hours more in the twilight and dark, 
he sat wearily down by the trail, and said that it 
was of no use. The water for which he was look- 
ing was a small cistern, and at any time we might 
pass it in the dark. After a scanty supper of dry 
bread and cheese we lay down to sleep in the 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 109 



open air, hoping that the clouds which had been 
pouring rain upon Hebron might give us a drink 
and yet not drench us. Not a drop of rain fell, 
however, for we were still on an eastward slope 
where the westerly winds descend. The night be- 
fore we had been soaked because we were at the 
foot of the upward slope east of the Dead Sea; 
to-night, being on the opposite slope, we were 
thirsty. Fortunately neither the men nor the 
horses suffered from thirst, for the temperature 
fell to fifty degrees. Still we were all eager to 
reach water as early as possible in the morning. 

From our desert camp at an elevation of nine- 
teen hundred feet above the Dead Sea or six 
hundred above the Mediterranean, we rode 
northwestward mile after mile over gentle slopes 
of rock and gravel, with here and there a rare 
bush a foot high. The Negeb is here a wilderness 
of rounded hills, rising by steps to the Judean 
plateau. Each step marks an improvement. Not 
far from camp we found traces of a little aqueduct 
at Mureg Asharan, but whence it derived water 
no man knows. A little farther on, the country 
began to have the faintest tinge of green. Here, 
too, in a valley absolutely dry, we found signs 
that once upon a time man lived and cultivated 
the soil. For what other purpose would he build 
an old irrigation canal of stones? Then we passed 
a ruined cistern and a dry well, and after three 
and a half hours of travelling came to the cistern 



110 



PALESTINE 



of Jugma. There we found water and nomads, 
and gladly dismounted. The bloated carcass of 
some small beast floated in the middle of the deep 
pool into which the blue-gowned Arab women 
cast leather buckets at the end of long ropes. 
Nevertheless we drank as heartily as did the 
crowding, pushing flocks of goats and sheep. 

Then we rode on, northward now, straight up 
the slope, away from the Negeb to the high part 
of the plateau south of Hebron. Not until an 
elevation of twenty-five hundred feet above the 
Dead Sea was reached, — twelve hundred feet 
above the Mediterranean, — did we pass the 
ruins of a genuine village, but even there no signs 
of cultivation by the men of to-day could be 
found. Only after another mile and a half of easy 
climbing did we come to the first fields. Then, as 
we rose higher, the country rapidly improved. 
The wheat-fields appeared green and flourishing 
in the better portions, and were decked with 
patches of red poppies, little blue flowers of a 
trumpet shape, or yellow tansy and mustard. 
Among the ruins of the large village of Kureitein 
we passed the huts of a few villagers who dwell 
there part of the year to care for the fields and 
tend the abundant flocks which dot the green 
slopes. 

Finally the last ascent, up the hill north of 
Kureitein, took us to the highest part of the 
Judean plateau, three thousand feet above the 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 111 



Mediterranean, and all the land was clothed with 
dripping green. We knew that the wet grass 
would become dry as soon as the sun appeared, 
that the greenness would last only two or three 
months, that ruins were more numerous than 
villages, and that a quarter of the view was naked 
rock. Yet, as we came up from the deserts of the 
Arabah and the Negeb, Judea seemed very plea- 
sant, a land of crops and flocks, with groves of 
olive trees clustering around the distant villages 
perched here and there on hilltops. It was hard to 
believe that this same plateau had seemed most 
barren and sterile when we ascended to it from 
the fertile west. One wonders that so attractive 
a land has not oftener been invaded by the peo- 
ple of the desert. The escarpment of Edom ex- 
plains why the inhabitants of the country to the 
east rarely come this way. We shall see later 
why it was not invaded from the south. Once, 
to be sure, after the captivity, Hebron was long 
in the hands of the Edomites, but that was only 
an incident. For the most part the southern 
portion of Judea has been almost as Jewish as 
Jerusalem. Before David drove the Jebusites 
from the stronghold of Jerusalem, he ruled seven 
years in Hebron. Long before that time Abraham, 
as the story runs, chose Hebron as the most fa- 
vored part of the Promised Land; there, in the 
cave of Machpelah, he laid his beloved wife to 
rest after his wanderings back and forth between 



112 PALESTINE 

Palestine and Egypt. There his sons and grand- 
sons succeeded him. The Hebrews in those days 
had more interest in Hebron than in any other 
part of Palestine; yet it was not to an Israelite 
that the final conquest of the place was attrib- 
uted, but to Caleb, the Kenezite, a stranger 
among the invading Israelites. 

The Judean plateau seemed populous as we 
came up from the desert of theNegeb. As we rode 
south from Hebron a few days later, it seemed 
empty and uninhabited. Sometimes we met one 
or two men with camels; among the dark scrub 
oak of the remoter hills flocks of white sheep or 
goats grazed at long intervals. Not a village 
lay on our way for twelve miles until we reached 
Dahariyeh, the ancient Debir which resisted 
the Israelite invaders so strongly that Caleb 
promised not only the frontier town, but his 
daughter as a reward for its capture. In ancient 
days villages and people must have been far more 
numerous than now. Everywhere we noticed 
walls enclosing old fields, some of which might 
now be cultivated, although others are devoid 
of soil. Everywhere the soil seems to have been 
washed away to a great extent, and the process 
is not finished. 

Farther south, as we began the descent from 
the plateau to the Negeb, the present poverty 
of the land contrasted still more strongly with 
evidences of prosperity in the past. South of 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 113 



Debir the land falls away steadily, the valleys 
become wide and open, and the hills assume a 
low, rounded form with relatively little bare 
rock in sight. Such a land ought, it would seem, 
to be fertile and populous; and the heavy showers 
which drenched us made the region appear well 
watered. Yet in the fifteen miles from Debir to 
Beersheba we saw no sign of any village, merely 
three ruins and the tents of some Beduin. Ver- 
dure was not absent, but signs of aridity and 
drought were the most striking feature. As soon 
as we left the plateau, bushes disappeared, and 
the country was barren except for thin grass on 
the hills, and stunted grainfields in the broad 
valley of the Wadi es Seba. Below a level of 
two thousand feet the fields were ruined, for 
this was the first rain for two months. Grain 
which should have been eighteen inches high 
and well headed out was only three inches high 
and not worth cutting. In many places camels 
and flocks had been turned into the fields to 
glean what scanty fodder the crop might afford. 
The Arabs, who cultivate this region as an ad- 
junct to their pastoral pursuits, had taken most 
of the flocks, however, to the plateau or the 
Philistine plain in search of more abundant water 
and forage. The government officials at Beer- 
sheba informed us that the movement of the 
Arabs had so depopulated the country that they 
had had no business for a month. Another 



114 



PALESTINE 



effect of the drought appeared in the statement 
of our thoughtful host at Hebron, Dr. Patterson 
of the Presbyterian Hospital, who said that dur- 
ing the spring of 1909 he operated upon gunshot 
cases to an extent unprecedented in his sixteen 
years in the country. The Arabs, under pressure 
of drought, had invaded the territory of the 
Fellahin farmers, with quarrels as the inevitable 
result. 

The most noteworthy feature of the Negeb is 
the evidence of the ravages of drought, both 
past and present. Beersheba illustrates the mat- 
ter. In Biblical history the place first appears as 
a resort of nomads, where Abraham, or, in another 
account, Isaac, dug a well and made a covenant 
with Abimelech, chief of the Philistines, whose 
men had quarrelled with those of the Hebrew 
patriarch. Later it became so important a town, 
that the well-known phrase from Dan to Beer- 
sheba stood for the whole extent of Palestine from 
end to end. In the New Testament, Beersheba, 
like Hebron and other large towns, is not once 
mentioned, but it was doubtless an important 
place. On the low hills above the ancient wells 
which lie in the broad Wadi es Seba, ruins spread 
to a circumference of nearly three miles. Most 
of the visible ruins belong to the early centuries 
of the Christian era, when the town, or "very 
large village," was important enough to be the 
seat of a Roman presidium and a Christian bish- 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 115 



opric. Later the place fell into absolute oblivion. 
Probably it was abandoned and reoccupied many 
times, but of this we cannot speak with certainty. 
In recent times it contained no permanent in- 
habitants until 1899 or 1900, when Turkish rule 
had been well established in southern Pales- 
tine. Then a few traders settled here. Soon 
afterward Beersheba was promoted to the rank 
of a vice-mutessariflik subject to the mutessarif 
of Jerusalem. The government attaches especial 
importance to the town because of its character 
as a trading centre from which the surrounding 
Arabs can be controlled. In 1909, at the time of 
our visit, the village was a straggling little town 
with good government buildings, a long line 
of shops down the main street, and dwelling- 
houses for about eight hundred people on side 
streets. A muddy torrent, gone in a few hours, 
was rushing down the broad gravelly channel 
at the foot of the gentle slope on which the vil- 
lage lies. During the night the rains on the 
plateau near Hebron so augmented it that the 
water overflowed into the business street, and a 
shop was carried away. 

Inasmuch as Beersheba contains no regular 
place for the entertainment of strangers, we 
went to the government buildings and were 
given a room in which to spend the night. A 
crowd of soldiers, glad of anything to break the 
monotony, pushed into the room in eastern fash- 



116 



PALESTINE 



ion, politely enough, but not in a way enjoyable 
to the occidental. We were delighted when a 
young official in a blue uniform invited us to be- 
come his guests. Said Khalifa, chief of police at 
Beersheba, was from one of the best families of 
Jerusalem, and we much enjoyed his hospitality. 
As rain fell heavily till afternoon the next day, we 
stayed with him two nights, and spent the day 
in conversing in Turkish. 

Said Effendi's story not only illustrates orien- 
tal methods of business, but throws light on the 
history of Beersheba. Four years ago the mutes- 
sarif of Jerusalem commissioned Said to ferret out 
some counterfeiters. He took with him a friend, 
and the two disguised themselves as poor Arabs, 
letting their beards grow, and wearing wretched 
clothes. For three months they frequented the 
worst parts of the city, and at length detected the 
counterfeiters. Two months more were required 
to locate the apparatus, and another three to sur- 
prise the men when actually at work. The chief 
counterfeiter was a Jew, but both Mohamme- 
dans and Christians were among the thirteen who 
were arrested. For all this Said Effendi received 
no reward except a police commissionership in 
the remote village of Beersheba with a salary of 
eleven dollars a month and perquisites. He de- 
termined, however, to make use of his opportu- 
nities. Seeing hundreds of square miles of good 
land lying uncultivated, or only tilled in the slip- 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 117 



shod manner of the Arabs, he decided to go into 
farming. Leasing some land from the govern- 
ment, he obtained a good crop of wheat. Thus 
encouraged he combined with two partners from 
Jerusalem and leased 50,000 dunums of land, 
which amounts to about 7500 acres. For this they 
paid 150,000 piasters for a three years' lease, or 
at the rate of about $2000 a year. In 1909 they 
planted a considerable area, spending nearly 
$1500 for seed, and probably as much for labor. 
The rains were so scanty and fell at such inop- 
portune times that the entire crop failed abso- 
lutely, and they did not get back a single cent 
of their outlay. Each man lost at least $1500, 
which is equivalent to four or five times as much 
in America. They planned to make another at- 
tempt the succeeding year, but how it succeeded 
I do not know. A succession of bad years like 
those in the sixties and seventies would inevit- 
ably put an end to all attempts to cultivate the 
land around Beersheba. It would be left once 
more to the nomads, who, when the crops fail, 
can rely upon their animals for sustenance, 
i Beersheba lies just beyond the border where 
permanent cultivation is possible without irri- 
gation. Under present conditions a large town 
like that indicated by the ruins could scarcely 
grow up, unless radically new methods of agri- 
culture were introduced. Irrigation has never 
been practised here, although with modern 



118 



PALESTINE 



mechanical skill it might be possible. Now, as in 
ancient times, the seven wells are used only to 
furnish drinking water. There are signs of pro- 
gress, however, for a steam pump run by gaso- 
line has been established by the government at 
one of the wells. It is operated two hours a day 
and pumps water enough for the whole eight 
hundred people. Most of the inhabitants draw 
water from the public cisterns into which the 
water is piped. Twelve or fifteen houses have 
their own small cisterns, for which they pay a 
water rate of eight mejidiehs, or six and a half 
dollars, a year. Some of the houses which have 
cisterns use the water for small gardens contain- 
ing bananas, palms, and other sub-tropical plants. 
Probably a considerable amount of water might 
be pumped from the deep gravels in which the 
drainage of the Wadi es Seba is largely lost. Only 
in this way can any considerable agricultural 
population be supported permanently around 
Beersheba at the present time. Yet in the past, 
if the ruins of Beersheba itself and of the outly- 
ing villages are any guide, a large, permanent, ag- 
ricultural population must have depended upon 
rainfall, not upon irrigation. 

A ride of thirty miles south-southwest to Aujeh, 
and then fifty miles north-northwest to Gaza, 
strengthened the conclusion formed at Beer- 
sheba, and threw further light on the great change 
which has transformed Palestine. Crossing the 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 119 



muddy channel of the Wadi es Seba, already al- 
most waterless after the flood of the day before, 
we traversed low rolling hills with slopes so gentle 
that little soil has been washed away in spite 
of the dryness, and naked rock is rare. A large 
part of the country is under cultivation, but we 
saw no sign of any crop, although in April the 
grain should have been at its best. Here and 
there a few Arabs were tented beside heaps of 
earth like huge beehives six feet high, under which 
much straw and a little grain was stored. Every 
mile or two we came upon the strange sight of 
a camel drawing a plough, perhaps with a baby 
camel running alongside. Or else we passed a 
group of three or four Arabs coming down from 
the north with primitive wooden ploughs swung 
on the sides of their slow-stepping beasts. The 
news of the rains of the past few days had 
already reached the nomads near Hebron and 
Jaffa, and they were hastening back to plant a 
little millet, in the hope of having something to 
eat next winter aside from the products of the 
flocks and herds. Furrows are ploughed about 
three or four feet apart, and in these the seed is 
planted. Millet will grow in the driest land, pro- 
vided water is abundant at the start and the sun 
is warm enough to promote rapid growth. It 
makes wretched bread, but even that is far bet- 
ter than nothing. 

Three hours from Beersheba we entered a 



120 



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region where drifts of yellow sand are piled to a 
height of ten or twenty feet. The hills face east- 
ward, having been formed by west winds. They 
are not moving now, but are covered with sparse 
short grass and bushes which give to many of 
them a dark hue. Between the sand hills little 
patches of crude cultivation occasionally run well 
up on the sides of the dunes. The sand was evi- 
dently piled up at a time when the country was 
drier than now, but there is nothing to indicate 
when that time was. The comparative freshness 
and softness of the dunes suggest that the dry 
epoch which gave the final touches belongs to 
historic times, dating back hundreds rather than 
thousands of years. 

Almost in the midst of the sand, the extensive 
ruins of Khalasa extend along the north bank of 
a broad wadi for nearly three quarters of a mile, 
with smaller ruins on the other side. Carved 
columns and capitals of chalk or limestone show 
that architecture was highly developed here in 
the early centuries of the Christian era. Al- 
though the place appears to have been almost 
as extensive as Hebron, which has a population 
of twenty thousand, there are no permanent in- 
habitants at present and no houses. The single 
well, on the plain just above the low bank of the 
broad dry stream-bed, must have been used for 
ages, for the limestone blocks at its mouth are not 
only grooved to a depth of three inches, but the 



A WELL WORKED BY HORSE-POWER AT BEERSHEBA 




ARABS PLOUGHING FOR MILLET IN THE NEGEB 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 121 

groovings are gracefully fluted, like those in the 
soft chalk of the caves at Beit Jibrin. 

Six miles farther south Ruheibeh, the ancient 
Rehoboth, tells the same story of drought and 
abandonment. In the days of Isaac, as now, the 
population appears to have been nomadic, for the 
wandering patriarch dug here a well, and for once 
the Philistines did not try to wrest it from him. 
Later, to judge from the ruins, agriculture pre- 
vailed, and a prosperous village contained one or 
two thousand inhabitants. An additional num- 
ber lived in the gardens and fields roundabout, 
where we found remnants of old walls six feet 
thick. The amount of cultivation carried on here 
at present is even less than at Khalasa, although 
a few poor fields are sporadically tilled. Some- 
thing must have changed greatly in two thou- 
sand years. 

South of Ruheibeh sand begins at a distance 
of about six miles, and continues almost to the 
broad bed of the Wadi Aujeh. The country is 
even more desert than that farther north, but 
ruins are as abundant as ever. At half-past nine 
at night, after much wandering in the dark, the 
light of distant fires guided us to the ruins of 
Aujeh. There we found about a hundred soldiers 
and workmen encamped in tents. Within a year 
the government had established a kaimakamlik 
for the purpose of keeping the nomadic Arabs 
in order and making them settle in permanent 



122 



PALESTINE 



houses. The Turkish officials are full of schemes 
for persuading the Arabs to give up the wander- 
ing pastoral life and engage in agriculture. The 
schemes are highly commendable. They would 
put an end to frontier raids, would bring the Arabs 
within the reach of the government at all times, 
and would increase the taxes and the number of 
men who can be called upon for military service. 
The Arabs naturally object to being deprived of 
their freedom. Still large numbers of the poorer 
ones would be delighted with any change which 
would insure them a sufficient supply of food 
throughout the year. For months each year 
many are hungry, with genuine, gnawing hun- 
ger. The only trouble with the official plans is 
that the land on which the nomads are urged 
to live is so dry that it cannot yield a living. 
No matter how industrious a man may be, he 
cannot raise crops without either rain or irriga- 
tion. 

We spent the night at Aujeh in a tent kindly 
put at our disposal by some soldiers. In the morn- 
ing one of them turned over a stone which was 
holding down a tent peg, and showed us a Greek 
inscription. Before we left the place we had found 
six others, all on Christian gravestones newly 
discovered in the work of preparing government 
buildings. Then the kaimakam, the official in 
charge of the forlorn attempt to found a town, 
came to call. Leading us to the ruins of an old 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 123 



church, upon the foundations of which he is now 
erecting a guest-house, he ordered the workmen 
to uncover a beautiful mosaic inscription, form- 
ing part of the ancient floor. All the inscriptions 
have been kindly read for me by Professor C. C. 
Torrey. The mosaic relates how in the year 496, 
apparently of the era of Gaza, the monk Sergius, 
a man named Pallut, a woman whose name is 
lost, and Deacon John, her son, built the church as 
a thank offering for preservation in time of dan- 
ger. The other inscriptions are of value chiefly 
as a means of obtaining dates. They range from 
436 to 519 according to their era, which would 
mean from 375 to 458 a. d., for the era of Gaza 
began in 61 b. c. Inscriptions in other parts of 
the Negeb offer additional proof that as late as 
the fifth century after Christ the country was 
still highly prosperous. Aujeh, like Damascus, 
Palmyra, Jerash, Madeba, Jerusalem, and a score 
of other Syrian towns of the period, was adorned 
with Grseco-Roman colonnades along the main 
streets. In Aujeh the masonry bases of the col- 
umns can still be seen along two parallel streets, 
about five hundred feet apart and six hundred 
feet or more long. In the fourth, fifth, and sixth 
centuries Christianity dominated all Syria. Au- 
jeh contains the distinct ruins of three well-built 
churches in the lower city, and one within the 
large castle high on the hilltop. Further excava- 
tion will probably disclose others, for Aujeh must 



124 



PALESTINE 



have been a town of well-nigh ten thousand in- 
habitants. 

In addition to the ruins of towns and large 
villages, the Negeb is full of traces of a numerous 
suburban or country population. For instance, 
both north and south of Khalasa, especially in 
the small side valleys, traces of country houses 
can be plainly seen. Around them walls or ter- 
races of old fields, orchards, or gardens can be 
detected. These begin at least three quarters of a 
mile north of Khalasa, and extend a mile and a half 
south of it. Search in the valleys away from the 
road would probably disclose them at even greater 
distances. More than two miles north of Ruhei- 
beh we came upon similar evidences of a dense 
suburban agricultural population. South of the 
town the valley up which we ascended was full 
of walls for terraces. Some of the walls were six 
feet broad at the base. None show a height of 
more than a foot or two now, but some were 
probably once high enough to protect fruit or 
other products from thieves. At Aujeh we our- 
selves saw that terraces abound in the small val- 
leys for a mile and a half north of the city; and 
the soldiers told us that in some directions they 
extend at least two hours' journey, which ought to 
mean six miles, but may mean only three or four. 
The men who told us this also said that in the 
cemetery, of which we saw traces north of the 
town, they had excavated a few graves in their 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 125 



search for building stone. In several they found 
tear-bottles. In one they came upon the body 
of a man still clothed, but both the body and the 
clothes crumbled to pieces as soon as touched. 
The soldiers seemed much interested in the fact 
that the man was not a Moslem, as they judged 
by his apparel and position. He wore what they 
termed a hat. 

The walls and terraces just described were 
evidently not designed for crops such as the wheat, 
barley, and millet which alone can now be raised 
in the Negeb. They were manifestly intended 
for more intensive agriculture, for olive groves, 
vineyards, orchards, or vegetable gardens. To- 
day, except for the few tiny gardens watered by 
the gasoline pump at Beersheba, no trace of such 
plants is found in the Negeb, unless it be one or 
two grapevines which the officials of Aujeh have 
nursed through the droughts. General agriculture 
in the Negeb is to-day absolutely out of the ques- 
tion. Yet in ancient times varied crops including 
fruit must have been raised over broad areas in 
the suburbs of all the towns, while the cultiva- 
tion of wheat and barley or other cereals must 
have occupied a large part of the outlying dis- 
tricts, for otherwise it would have been impossi- 
ble to obtain food for such large towns. 

Such extensive cultivation left little room for 
Arab nomads. Another fact also points to their 
absence. Wherever nomads are in contact with 



126 



PALESTINE 



a settled agricultural population, raids are al- 
most inevitable. On the appearance of hard 
times the nomads plunder the agricultural folk, 
who do not feel the pinch of want quite so readily. 
Therefore in all such regions the agriculturists 
gather closely into villages. No one dares live 
apart by himself. Around Khalasa and Aujeh, 
however, the ruins seem to show that part of the 
population, during a portion of the year at least, 
lived at a considerable distance from the towns 
in isolated houses, just as they do in the moister, 
safer parts of Palestine farther to the north. 
Doubtless the strong hand of the Roman govern- 
ment had much to do with the matter, but Rome 
itself never made it safe to live in unprotected 
isolation among migratory Arabs. Therefore we 
must conclude that in those days the Arabs did 
not wander here, but farther to the east and 
south. 

Any exact estimate of the population of the 
Negeb in former times is impossible, but we can 
gain some idea as to conditions then and now. 
At present the district from the Judean plateau 
southward for fifty miles is so nearly a desert that 
the settled population, consisting largely of offi- 
cials and traders, does not exceed one thousand 
people. The remaining inhabitants are a few 
nomads, probably not over one or two thousand, 
who cultivate the land in a slipshod way, but rely 
upon flocks and herds for their main sustenance. 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 127 

The populousness of the old towns may be 
judged from what has already been said, and from 
the following estimates made by Mr. John Whit- 
ing of Jerusalem. He has travelled extensively in 
the Negeb and is familiar with most of its ruins. 
He includes not only the places already men- 
tioned, but others which we did not see. He 
estimates that Khalasa had about 10,000 people, 
Ruheibeh 3000 to 4000, Aujeh 6000 to 7000, Es 
Beita 10,000 to 12,000, Abdeh 8000, Birain 8000. 
Of course these are only rough estimates, but 
they are conservative. They do not include all 
the ruins, nor do they take account of the large 
population which clearly dwelt outside the cities. 
As they stand they indicate a population of 
45,000 to 50,000 people in the main towns, as 
compared with less than a thousand to-day. 

In view of the populousness of the Negeb, the 
Biblical account of the first attempt of the Israel- 
ites to enter Palestine gains a new significance. 
The story of the wanderings of the Exodus may 
be regarded as legendary or as actual history; in 
either case the account represents the condition 
of the country as known to the Hebrews. Ac- 
cording to the simplest interpretation of the 
Biblical story, the Israelites were a nomadic tribe 
or congeries of tribes who invaded Palestine, and 
finally settled in the hill country. Part of them, 
moving up from the south, came in contact with 
the Amalekites, and attempted to pass through 



128 



PALESTINE 



their land. A battle ensued in which the Chil- 
dren of Israel would have been utterly routed 
save for the divine aid which came to them so 
long as Moses held up his hands, and which con- 
tinued even when Moses was so weary that his 
hands had to be supported by his lieutenants, 
Hur and Aaron. In spite of this the Israelites 
were forced to turn back; for the Amalekites who 
dwelt in the cities of the Negeb were too strong 
for them. Later the Hebrews wished once more 
to pass through the Amalekite cities. Joshua sent 
spies who readily traversed the Negeb to the 
plateau, and came back with a glowing report. 
The fear of Amalek was still upon the nomads, 
however, and they turned away once more, to 
wander in a great circuit around the inhabited 
regions of Edom, and to come in from the east 
across Moab. In those days the Amalekites of 
the Negeb were probably an agricultural people, 
perhaps possessing large flocks, but dwelling in 
the towns which the Christians of later days 
adorned with colonnades and churches. The 
Children of Amalek long held the land; and were 
among the most troublesome enemies of Saul and 
David in the days when the Israelites at last be- 
came a nation. They were always regarded as foes 
of the Hebrews; but their presence and that of 
their successors was actually a source of strength. 
They served as a barrier to keep out wild tribes 
in later days, just as they kept out the followers 



[PARCHED LAND OF JTHE NEGEB 129 



of Moses in earlier times. The populousness of 
the Negeb thus supplemented the ruggedness 
of the escarpment of the Arabah in protecting 
Judea on the south, where it was most liable to 
invasion. 

We can scarcely leave the Negeb without at- 
tempting to understand how a land which is 
now so poor could support so large a population 
in former times. An adequate discussion of the 
matter must be deferred until we have surveyed 
other parts of Palestine and its borderlands. 
Here we shall merely attempt to understand the 
nature of the transformation which has over- 
whelmed the Negeb. Clearly the ancient in- 
habitants depended chiefly upon agriculture, for 
by no other means could so many people gain 
sustenance. They did not rely to any extent, if 
at all, upon irrigation; for not only have no traces 
of canals been found, but a large number of the 
evidences of ancient cultivation are located on 
hillsides, or in minor valleys where irrigation 
would be impossible, even if there were sufficient 
water in the main wadies, which is now far from 
the case. If canals had formerly been built, 
their ruins ought to be as evident as those of 
the insignificant little terraces where the actual 
process of cultivation was carried on. We are 
forced to conclude that the former population, 
even when most dense, depended upon crops 
which were watered chiefly, if not wholly, by rain. 



130 



PALESTINE 



To-day the Arabs also depend upon the rain, but 
by no means in the same way. The crops are not 
their main source of livelihood; their flocks sup- 
port them in times of scarcity. The ancient 
people cannot have depended upon flocks to any 
great extent. In the first place, pastoral people 
never build large towns. In the second place, it 
would be a physical impossibility for the Negeb 
to support flocks in sufficient numbers to afford a 
livelihood to a population so dense as that which 
once existed. We are forced back to the conclu- 
sion that the ancient inhabitants of the Negeb 
relied mainly upon crops supported by the or- 
dinary rainfall. 

When the Negeb was somewhat densely in- 
habited by an agricultural population, the crops 
must have been far more uniform in quantity than 
now. I questioned various people as to the pro- 
portion of years in which crops fail. An Arab 
merchant from Gaza, in whose tent we took a 
meal at Khalasa, said that he had known the 
Negeb eight years. In that time the crops of the 
first five years were good, that of the sixth year, 
1907, was a failure, that of 1908 was excellent, 
and that of 1909 again a failure. The camel-soldier 
who feared to go with us to Beni Na'im said that 
he had known the country seventeen years. In 
recent years, so he said, the crops had been as the 
merchant recounted. Before that some years were 
bad and some good, so that of the seventeen he 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 131 



reckoned twelve as good, and five as bad. A sec- 
ond merchant, more intelligent than either of the 
other men, indeed one of the most intelligent whom 
we met, had known the country thirty -five years. 
He thought that the crops had failed nearly half 
the time. When I asked what the poor people 
did in bad years, he said, "To some we give work. 
To those for whom there is no work, we who have 
store of grain laid by give food till the hunger 
is over." Finally at Gaza I talked with Herr 
Gatt, a missionary priest who came here from 
Austria thirty years ago. Since then he has lived 
alone, ministering to his little charge of eighty 
souls, teaching the parochial school, entertaining 
the few foreigners who visit Gaza, and, as his 
favorite occupation, studying archaeology and 
writing a learned book on ancient Jerusalem. 
"Within ten miles of Gaza," he said, "I have 
known the crops to fail but once in all the thirty 
years that I have been here. Of course they are 
sometimes poor, but except in that one case, there 
has always been enough so that the people could 
live. Beyond the Wadi Sheriyah [eight miles 
to the south], I should say that they had failed 
about ten years out of the thirty." From these 
four statements it is evident that the years from 
1900 to 1908, that is, the years during which the 
modern village of Beersheba has grown up, have 
been unusually favorable. In the long run we 
seem justified in accepting Herr Gatt's estimate 



132 



PALESTINE 



that the crops of the Negeb fail one year out of 
three. Of course there must be variation from 
place to place. At Beersheba the proportion is 
probably less than one in three. At Aujeh, far- 
ther south, where there is much less cultivation, 
it must be more. Manifestly under such condi- 
tions large towns like ancient Khalasa or Aujeh 
could not possibly exist. Small villages might be 
founded in a series of good years, but when the 
bad years came, the villagers would be compelled 
to starve or move away. Part would go to bet- 
ter-watered regions; those who stayed would 
increase their flocks of sheep and goats or their 
herds of camels, and would become nomadic. 
Large towns with wealth sufficient to build hand- 
some churches, fine colonnades, and other public 
structures could not possibly exist. 

The statement of Herr Gatt that he has never 
known the crops to fail but once north of the 
Wadi Sheriyah brings up the interesting question 
of the limits of cultivation. Travellers in the 
East state again and again that the limits of cul- 
tivation are constantly being restricted by the 
nomads. Doubtless this is true on certain occa- 
sions, that is, at times when some special cause, 
such as the exceptional drought of the spring of 
1909, drives the Arabs out of their accustomed 
haunts. On the whole, however, it does not seem 
to be true. As a general rule cultivation is pushed 
as far into the desert as it possibly can be, as is 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 133 



well illustrated by the way in which the Arabs 
south of Beersheba carefully cultivate the land 
each year, although they know that the crop will 
fail one year out of three. In the same way nei- 
ther the Arabs nor any other people whom I have 
met during many years of wandering in Asia 
ever practise nomadism if they live in a country 
where agriculture yields a secure livelihood. If 
the crops are precarious, nomadism in some form 
is the rule. If the crops are sure to yield a fair 
return practically every year, the pressure of in- 
creasing population inevitably forces the inhabit- 
ants to practise agriculture and give up nomad- 
ism, or at least to wander for only a few months 
each year. Hence, if the inhabitants of a region 
which has long been populated practise nomadism, 
we may infer that for some reason agriculture is 
not sufficiently profitable, and some resource is 
needed upon which to rely in bad seasons. 

On the way from Ruheibeh to Gaza we rode 
for ten or fifteen miles through sandy wastes, all 
brown and bare, where the Arabs were trying to 
insure themselves a little something to eat next 
winter, by sowing millet. Then, for ten miles, as 
we went farther north and approached the sea, 
we rode through the fine plain of Fara, full of 
great ruins. Its abundant fields of grain were not 
absolutely ruined in 1909, but were so poor that 
the decimated crop could not be cut with a sickle. 
We found the Arabs plucking by hand the short 



134 



PALESTINE 



stalks of sparse barley, which they, in their utter 
poverty, thought worth saving. The reaped places 
looked almost like the unreaped. Probably few 
fields in the whole plain yielded the harvesters 
as much grain as they sowed. Yet once the plain 
supported great towns. One wonders where the 
ancient people procured water. We found the 
Arabs drinking water which they had brought 
two or three miles from the lower part of the Wadi 
es Seba, where pools stand far into the summer. 
Wells might be dug, but no one feels like running 
the risk. As we rode along, our escort pointed out 
a place near the ruins of Khurbet Abu Khalyun, 
where an Arab chief is reported to have spent 
two hundred pounds in digging a well. When it 
was finished the water was too salty to drink. 

At the northern end of the plain of Fara con- 
ditions improve. When we reached the Wadi 
Sheriyah, eight miles from Gaza, and an equal 
distance from the sea, the crops were passable, 
though not particularly good. Within a mile or 
two after we reached the region of good crops, 
our guide informed us that the fields of the Arabs 
had come to an end. Here the land belonged to 
the Fellahin, whose village he pointed out half a 
mile away. Permanent habitations always begin 
where permanent agriculture becomes possible. 
If the fields happen to belong to rich nomads, as 
they do in the region already mentioned around 
Tell el Hesy between Gaza and Hebron, there is 



PARCHED LAND OF THE NEGEB 135 



nevertheless a settled population; the servants of 
the rich men live in houses, and do not wander. 

To-day the southernmost border of profitable 
agriculture runs from the Wadi Sheriyah east- 
ward to Debir and the other villages on the south- 
ern border of the Judean plateau. This, too, is 
the boundary between the domains of the no- 
madic Beduin and the agricultural Fellahin. In 
former days the boundary ran farther south, cer- 
tainly fifty miles away and possibly more. The 
change in the boundary does not seem to be due 
to any human action unless man has somehow 
changed the amount of rainfall. It is part of the 
great transformation which has been the Nemesis 
of Palestine. 



CHAPTER VII 



A CONTRAST OF PHYSICAL FORM 



"Jews have no dealings with Samaritans." 
The Apostle John probably thought that he was 
treating of a purely psychological phenomenon 
when he wrote this brief parenthesis in the beau- 
tiful story of Jesus and the woman of Samaria. 
He desired to put his non-Jewish readers in pos- 
session of a peculiar fact, which explains the sur- 
prise with which the woman answered Jesus' re- 
quest for a drink. Whatever may have been the 
thought of the writer, his remark was geographi- 
cal as well as psychological. It sums up the effect 
of the physical form of the provinces of Judea and 
Samaria upon the ideas and history of the inhab- 
itants. The freedom of the woman in conversing 
with a strange man was typical of the openness 
of Samaria to outside influences. Her question, 
"How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink 
of me, who am a Samaritan woman?" was the 
natural result of the exclusiveness which Judea 
had fostered in the Jews. The disciples, although 
Galileans, were so far imbued with the spirit de- 
rived from centuries of Judean ancestry that, on 
their return from buying bread, they marvelled 
to find Jesus talking with the woman. Neither 




WOMEN OF SAMARIA AT SEBASTIYEH 



A CONTRAST 



137 



they nor she had the faintest idea that the atti- 
tude of both was merely the reflection of the fact 
that Judea, in the language of physiography, is 
a maturely dissected plateau of hard horizontal 
limestone, while Samaria is a mountainous region 
of gently tilted strata of varying hardness de- 
clining gently northward. Like the vast majority 
of mankind, they were unconsciously dominated 
by physical environment. No one of them, as an 
individual, felt the influence greatly, but by in- 
heritance and training they were saturated with 
the effect of century upon century of life in pe- 
culiar geographic surroundings. Jesus, alone, in 
splendid contrast to their narrowness, overcame 
material influences. He broke through the bar- 
riers of inanimate nature, and proclaimed the 
whole world one. He showed how psychic forces 
triumph over physical. Rising above the influ- 
ence of natural environment, he raised his fol- 
lowers with him. He typified the victory which 
man, as a being endowed with mind and soul, is 
slowly and painfully winning over the universe. 

The geographic difference between Samaria 
and Judea is so subtle, and has been so important 
historically that we shall devote this chapter to 
its further consideration. In preceding chapters 
we have become acquainted with the appearance 
of Judea, and to a less extent of Samaria. Here 
we shall discuss the geological structure of the 
two, in further detail, showing its effect upon the 



138 



PALESTINE 



form of the surface, and the effect of the form 
upon history, — a logical sequence. We shall also 
see how similar conditions in America have in 
certain respects led to similar results. 

The important portion of Judea, as we have 
seen, is the small plateau region, only twelve 
miles wide by forty-five long, and from twenty- 
five hundred to thirty-three hundred feet above 
the sea. Geologically its most important charac- 
teristics are that it consists of rather hard lime- 
stones, and that these lie horizontally. On the 
east and west the great earth-movements which 
have divided Palestine into long strips running 
north and south have broken the strata sharply 
off by faults, or bent them steeply downward. 
On the north and south the transverse movements 
which have gridironed the country have caused 
the limestones to dip gently away from the pla- 
teau. South of Judea, after dipping down some 
two thousand feet, the strata resume a horizontal 
position, and form the low plateau of the Negeb. 
On the north, near Sinjil and Gilgal, in the lati- 
tude of Jaffa, they dip down a thousand feet or 
more, but do not resume the horizontal attitude. 

Samaria is not a plateau like Judea. On the 
contrary, it is a region of subdued mountains 
where movements of the earth's crust have thrown 
the rocks into irregular folds with axes running 
in general northwest and southeast, parallel to 
the range of Mount Carmel and the fault of 



A CONTRAST 



139 



Esdraelon. Certain features run nearly at right 
angles to this direction, so that the province is 
much diversified. An exact statement of the 
dimensions of Samaria is difficult. On the east 
the length of the province from near Shiloh, in 
the south, to Jezreel, in the north, is close to 
forty miles. On the west the length is fifteen 
miles greater, for the long arm of Carmel, reach- 
ing out to the sea, is properly a part of Samaria. 
The width, from the Arabah to the Plain of 
Sharon, may be set at twenty miles. Others 
might reckon the dimensions differently, for 
Samaria is not so sharply bounded as Judea. On 
the south the transition from the Judean plateau 
to the Samaritan mountains is clearly defined, 
but is not so pronounced as to be an inevitable 
boundary. Hence Samaritan dominion in the 
early days of the division between the kingdoms 
of Israel and Judah extended over the northern 
portion of the plateau for ten miles to a point 
south of Bethel. Ten miles! How insignificant 
a distance in most parts of the world! How im- 
portant in Palestine! Bethel, the House of God, 
ranks with Hebron as one of the earliest of Jew- 
ish sanctuaries. There Jacob saw the angels as- 
cending and descending from heaven, or, ac- 
cording to another story, talked with God and 
set up a sacred pillar. There in the troubled 
days of Phineas soon after the Conquest, the peo- 
ple came up to be judged and to learn the will of 



140 



PALESTINE 



Jehovah at the place where the ark rested. Bethel 
rightly belongs to Judea, but because of tribal 
jealousy between Benjamin and Judah, it fell 
to the Kingdom of Israel. There, on the very 
southern border of his dominion, Jeroboam set 
up a golden calf in the hope that a rival sanctu- 
ary would prevent the people from going up to 
Jerusalem. Yet even in his day Bethel was for a 
time reconquered by the people of Judea, and 
later it once more became completely identified 
with the plateau. 

On the east no desert comparable to the Wil- 
derness of Judea separates Samaria from the 
Jordan Valley. Nor does any tremendous es- 
carpment prevent the ingress of foes. Not far 
from the latitude of Bethel the displacements of 
the earth's crust on either side of the Wilder- 
ness of Judea approach one another and coalesce. 
The step which forms the Wilderness disappears. 
The displacement between the plateau and the 
Ghor changes from a fault to a mere bending of 
the strata which dip down at an angle of twenty 
degrees more or less. The descent is still steep, 
but is no frowning fault scarp faced with inac- 
cessible cliffs. When the Jews entered the coun- 
try they could climb the heights near Mikmash 
much more easily than those farther south. 

Our own experience illustrates the accessibil- 
ity of Samaria as compared with Judea. From 
a commanding hilltop close to the border be- 



A CONTRAST 



141 



tween Judea and Samaria, the prosperous Chris- 
tian village of Tayibeh looks out over olive groves 
to the depression of the Ghor, just as Beni Na'im 
looks out over bare hills from a corresponding 
situation in southern Judea. Our wearisome 
ride of fourteen difficult miles from Beni Na'im 
across the desert and down the rock stairway to 
En-Gedi has been described. From Tayibeh a 
ride of only five miles brought us to the smooth 
floor of the Ghor. Vegetation diminishes as one 
descends, and cultivation without irrigation is 
impossible below an altitude of about twelve 
hundred feet above sea level. Nevertheless, the 
mountains are not wholly barren and the floor 
of the Ghor is well covered with grass, which in 
early May had already been dry for weeks. The 
road by which we descended was rocky, because 
we went practically straight to our destination at 
El Aujeh without attempting to choose the best 
way. Coming back we followed a longer route, and 
found it easy and almost free from rocks. This 
route or some other a little farther south was 
followed by the invading Israelites when they 
came up to march around Ai and overthrow its 
walls. 

The descent from the plateau to the Ghor in 
northern Judea and Samaria is so easy that some 
of the upland villagers take flocks thither to feed 
in winter. Others cultivate land at the base of the 
escarpment where water comes to the surface in 



142 



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springs. Seed-time and harvest come earlier in 
the Ghor than on the plateau. Hence it is pos- 
sible for the peasants to raise crops in both places. 
At El Aujeh we visited a mild peasant from 
Tayibeh who was getting ready to cut his lowland 
wheat. As we sat on a rude divan in his booth 
of dry branches, his eager little wife set before 
us a wild pigeon, cooked on a stick over a fire 
of twigs. Then, with affectionate volubility, she 
sent her two daughters — bright-eyed, unkempt 
little gypsies — to a field close by to gather some 
of the finest heads of wheat. Taking a few wisps 
of dry straw, she made a little pile and laid the 
wheat upon it. Then she calmly put out her 
hand to the fire where the pigeon had been cooked, 
and taking a live coal tossed it from hand to hand 
as she transferred it to the straw. A brief blaze 
consumed the straw, together with the hairs and 
hulls of the wheat, and half cooked the milky 
kernels. She and her imitative little daughters 
picked up the hot heads, rubbed them in their 
palms to separate the inner stalk and whatever 
chaff might remain, and set the blackened kernels 
before us, smoking hot, on a wicker plate. The 
meal was probably much like that of Ruth in the 
fields of Boaz, when she "sat beside the reapers; 
and they reached her parched corn, and she did 
eat and was sufficed." For us the chief signifi- 
cance of the day's ride was that it illustrated the 
relative increase in the fertility of the Ghor and 



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143 



in the accessibility of the western highland of 
Palestine as one proceeds northward. The Ghor 
must always have been a protection to Samaria, 
but the protection was far less effective than that 
which it afforded to Judea. 

Samaria is nowhere surrounded by such con- 
trasts as those which make Judea peculiar. The 
province is lower and less massive than its neigh- 
bor; the Ghor, too, is shallower than farther 
south. Hence the moisture-laden west winds do 
not rise so high on the seaward slope of Samaria 
nor descend so sharply and so far on the east as 
in the corresponding portions of Judea, and the 
borders of Samaria present no such marked con- 
trast as that between the Shephelah and the 
Wilderness of Judea. Of course the eastern slope 
of the province is by no means so well watered as 
the western, but it is far from being an absolute 
desert like that of En-Gedi or the hills of salt and 
gravel farther south. 

The western boundary of Samaria cannot be 
located definitely. It is hard to say where the 
Plain of Sharon begins and the Samaritan high- 
land ends. As the strata dip northward at the 
northern limit of Judea, the chalk of the Shephelah 
overlaps the limestone of the plateau. The She- 
phelah as a distinct range of hills disappears. All 
of Samaria except the higher mountains consists 
of the chalk and other relatively soft rocks which 
lie above the harder limestone. These form low 



$44 



PALESTINE 



hills along the western base of the province, but 
the hills have no continuity, and there is no such 
bulwark, or halfway land as that which shields 
Judea. An invader coming up from the plain 
finds open valleys which lead him easily into the 
centre of the province. On the north the frontier 
of Samaria is even more open than on any other 
side. The line of the fault of Esdraelon is gen- 
erally reckoned as the northern boundary. From 
the northern base of Carmel beside the sea it 
runs southeastward along the southern edge of 
the plain of Esdraelon to the foot of the sharply 
marked escarpment by which Mount Gilboa de- 
scends to the Vale of Jezreel. The boundary 
is easily defined but not easily preserved. The 
break in the earth's crust which determines its 
location occurred so long ago that the effect upon 
the topography has almost disappeared in the 
central portion. Between Megiddo and Jezreel 
the plain penetrates far into the highlands, al- 
most to the little Moslem town of Jenin, where 
a pretty white mosque peeps out from amid 
palms and bananas. When such a border is 
crossed by the greatest trade route of the age, 
no race can long remain secluded. 

The accessibility of Samaria has been her un- 
doing. We have seen that even her eastern bor- 
der may be forced by an invader, and that the 
northern border affords practically no protection. 
Yet even this degree of openness would have in- 



A CONTRAST 



145 



fluenced her relatively little, if her internal struc- 
ture had been as inhospitable as that of Judea. 
This subject is of such importance that I shall 
discuss it somewhat fully from the geological 
standpoint. What I have to say may be some- 
what difficult for readers who have no training 
in geology, or in the modern science of physi- 
ography. If it is well understood, however, it 
will do much toward explaining how it happened 
that the great essentials of the religion of the 
Jews were preserved in Judea, but were almost 
entirely lost in Samaria. 

When Syria first emerged from beneath the 
sea, the hard limestone which forms the plateaus 
and mountains of Palestine was buried under 
hundreds of feet of chalk and other soft rocks. 
As the land was slowly uplifted, Judea and Moab, 
as yet undivided by the dropping down of the 
Ghor, suffered no important change except sim- 
ple elevation. The surface, that is, the original 
sea floor, may have stood as high or higher than 
the present surface, but the strata which now are 
exposed in the plateaus stood much lower than 
to-day. Samaria and Gilead, like their southern 
counterparts, Judea and Moab, were also still 
undivided. In the process of elevation their 
strata did not retain a horizontal position, but 
were gently folded into arches and hollows run- 
ning northwest and southeast. The difference 
between Judea and Samaria or between Moab 



146 



PALESTINE 



and Gilead may readily be seen by an examina- 
tion of the accompanying diagram. It represents 




liEGEKD 
Gha3.k.ana soft cteposita, 
HardiSme.stane 
Sandstpne 
'Recentrlava 

Figure 2. 

Highly generalized and idealized Geological Section of Palestine from 
North to South. 



an idealized geological cross section running north 
and south through the centre of Judea and Sa- 
maria at right angles to the section across Judea 
shown in Figure 8 at the end of the book. After 
the completion of the processes of uplifting and 
folding, the land stood at a nearly stationary 
level for hundreds of thousands of years. How 
the streams ran we do not know, but certainly 
not at all as now. Some probably flowed west- 
ward or northwestward directly across the region 
which has since sunk to become the Jordan- 
Arabah depression. Whatever may have been 
their courses, they accomplished a great amount 
of erosion, wearing away the rock for millennium 
after millennium. They began by carving nar- 
row gorges in the plain of the uplifted sea floor. 
Then the gorges were broadened, and their sides 
rendered less steep. At length each valley be- 
came a broad plain, the intervening mountains 



A CONTRAST 



147 



were reduced to hills, and the country began to 
grow old. Finally, after long ages, erosion had 
proceeded so far that hundreds or thousands of 
feet of rock had been removed. The hills were 
practically consumed, and the land was largely 
reduced to smooth plains wherein wound sluggish 
rivers. Gentle swellings rose between the valleys, 
but nowhere was there anything steep, or any- 
thing which could be called a mountain. The 
country was reduced to what the physiographers 
call a peneplain, — almost a plain. 

We know that Palestine was reduced to a pene- 
plain, because remnants of the plain still survive. 
In the Shephelah around Beit Jibrin the tops of 
the hills present a flat, even skyline which they 
could not possibly attain without being subjected 
to the process of peneplanation. The same is ap- 
parently true of Mount Carmel. All the moun- 
tains of Samaria and Gilead rise to such a height 
that their tops appear to lie in a single plane. 
The plane is not horizontal, but rises from west 
to east and north to south. In Gilead, northeast 
of Es Salt, on the way to Jerash, some of the 
strata at the time of the original folding were bent 
into hollows, like vast shallow bath-tubs, as it 
were, with both ends rounded, and with gently 
sloping sides. On all sides of the hollows the 
strata formed arches and bent down again, as 
may be seen at A in the diagram on page 146. 
Erosion has planed off the tops of the arches, but 



PALESTINE 



the hollows remain. Looking east from the Wil- 
derness of Judea,one can clearly see another type 
of planation represented with almost diagram- 
matic clearness in the escarpment of Moab east 
of the Dead Sea. The strata of limestone and 
underlying sandstone dip gently toward the south. 
They are neatly bevelled by the smooth surface 
of the plateau, which cuts across the different 
layers without the slightest attention to whether 
they are hard or soft. To the physiographer it is 
clear that all these phenomena would be impos- 
sible unless the country had been reduced to a 
peneplane. Otherwise hard and soft strata could 
never have been worn to such a uniform level. 
The hard rocks would project as mountains, 
their tops would be uneven, and in many other 
ways the topography would differ from its present 
state. At the end of the peneplanation all Pales- 
tine was probably reduced to a plain in which 
hard rocks and soft had alike been worn so low 
that they could not be worn much lower. Then 
the earth's crust began to stir once more. Slowly 
the whole country was upheaved, as described in 
a previous chapter. The long slice from the Oron- 
tes to the Dead Sea separated itself from the 
rest of the land, remaining stationary or actually 
falling far below its previous level. During the 
progress of these changes, immeasurably slow by 
human standards, rapid geologically, the last 
touches were given to the fault of Esdraelon. The 



A CONTRAST 



149 



original movement along the fault-line may have 
taken place ages ago, but now occurred the final 
adjustment by which the country north of Car- 
mel was slightly depressed to form the irregular 
coast of Phoenicia, while that to the south was 
raised to form the harborless coastal plain of the 
Philistines. 

When Judea and Samaria, on the west, and 
Moab and Gilead, on the east, were finally ele- 
vated to their present positions on either side of 
the newly formed Ghor, all alike were smooth 
plateaus, almost without valleys. Their appear- 
ance was even more diagrammatic than that of 
the relief map opposite page 22. Such would still 
be the case, were it not for erosion. When the 
smooth old peneplain was warped, broken, and 
uplifted, new streams necessarily developed in 
conformity with the new slope of the -surface. 
These consequent streams, as they are techni- 
cally called, began to cut gorges in the relatively 
steep slopes bordering the plateaus. From the 
slopes they cut back headward into the plateaus 
themselves. New tributaries were gradually de- 
veloped, at first as mere gullies. These also cut 
headward and ramified, so that ultimately a net- 
work of valleys drained all parts of the country. 
In Samaria and Gilead the streams encountered 
both hard strata and soft. The hard layers re- 
sisted erosion. The soft were easily worn away. 
Hence the streams which happened to be located 



150 



PALESTINE 



in soft strata rapidly prolonged their courses 
headward. Then when they had reached a cer- 
tain depth, where the load of pebbles which they 
carried was so great as to prevent rapid erosion 
of their beds, the graded streams, as they are 
termed in this condition, began to cut laterally. 
Thus the regions of soft strata were ultimately 
converted into broad fertile plains or basins, 
while the hard rocks were left as mountains. 
The process is exactly that which has already 
been described in connection with the Shephelah. 
It is the same which has given rise to the so- 
called Appalachian structure in America. The 
short ridges of Samaria and Gilead are essentially 
the same as the long Blue Ridge and others 
which extend south west ward from Pennsylvania 
through the Virginias to Tennessee. The oval 
basins of Gilead, with their surrounding girdles 
of mountains, are small examples of the same 
type as the so-called canoe valleys of the coal 
regions of Pennsylvania. 

In horizontal strata there is nothing to guide 
the headward growth of the valleys. To cut in 
one direction is as easy as in another. Nothing 
gives one stream an advantage over another, or 
causes tributaries to follow any particular course. 
The valleys grow as chance may dictate, forming 
a highly intricate pattern of irregular, interlacing 
branches. Where the rocks are hard, as in Judea, 
the valleys cannot be widened rapidly. Hence 



A CONTRAST 151 



they are narrow and steep-sided. Great thick- 
nesses of rock rarely preserve precisely the same 
hardness throughout their mass. Every few feet 
slightly softer layers are apt to occur. Along 
these ; erosion proceeds with relative rapidity. 
Their substance is eaten away, and the overlying 
harder layers are undermined, and break off in 
little cliffs. Hence the sides of the Judean valleys 
are not only steep compared with those of Samaria, 
but are composed of a vast number of little ter- 
races, where the soft layers form benches of vary- 
ing width, and the hard layers form cliffs from 
one to twenty feet high. Naturally such valleys 
are not easy to traverse nor to cultivate. When 
it is remembered that the whole Judean plateau 
is cut by such valleys, and that they run irregu- 
larly in all directions, it is manifest that the pro- 
vince is not an easy region to conquer. The only 
real road in Judea is the one along the very mid- 
dle of the plateau, from Hebron, through Beth- 
lehem and Jerusalem to Shechem. 

We fell victims one day to the character of 
the roads within sight of Jerusalem. With the 
stupidity which one must ever curse — or refrain 
from cursing — in the Orient, our head caravan- 
man, Abdullah, left a rifle standing against the 
wall in a street of Jerusalem. He discovered the 
loss after half an hour, and stopped to consider 
the matter. When the "boy," who in the East 
does all that no one else is willing to do, had been 



152 



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sent back for the gun, Abdullah followed us to 
the first village, bringing the two baggage horses 
with him. There, in rocky Anathoth, where Jere- 
miah grew up, he inquired which way we had 
gone. "Down that road to the east. To Ain 
Farah," said a villager, and thither the sapient 
servant went. He well knew that we were to 
spend the night at Tayibeh, which lies to the 
north; but he also knew the nature of Judean 
roads. He did not know that Judea was a dissected 
plateau, but he knew that one who wants to go 
north starts either east or west, or perchance 
southward. The trail which we had taken soon 
branched off to the north, and descended a pre- 
cipitous hill over rough little terraces of rock, 
and climbed out on the other side, only to go 
down again across another valley. Abdullah kept 
on eastward with the slope of the land, and 
finally came to Ain Farah. There he found no- 
thing but a spring at the bottom of a deep valley 
whose rocky sides had been painstakingly ter- 
raced for wheat which was still green, and barley 
whose scanty crop was ripe. There he sat down 
to wait for us. How he expected us to arrive 
when we had already passed on ahead is a prob- 
lem too subtle for solution by an occidental. 
Possibly his knowledge of Judean roads had con- 
vinced him that there is no good road to any 
place, and no one road. Therefore we might have 
gone by another road worse than his, and would 



A CONTRAST 



153 



arrive later. Perhaps his thought pursued another 
line. I had recently reproved him for not waiting 
long enough at a place where I had agreed to 
meet him. Now he may have argued that it was 
his duty to wait indefinitely at a place which I 
had never mentioned. At any rate he took off 
the animals' loads and sat down to wait. By 
noon he wanted to move on, but unaided could 
not put the loads on the horses again. He waited 
till night, but no one came, and he dared not 
leave the animals for fear they would be stolen. 
He plundered the barley-fields for himself and 
the horses, and waited till a villager happened 
to come along toward noon the next day. Then 
he retraced his steps to Anathoth to make in- 
quiries once more. Finally, having learned no- 
thing new, he resorted to the desperate expedi- 
ent of coming to Tayibeh, the place originally 
agreed upon. We were glad to see him, not only 
because we had been anxious, but because of 
certain small but persistent elements of discom- 
fort involved in sleeping in native beds, as we 
had been obliged to do. I surmise that he was 
glad to be lost in order to weather the storm 
which he expected would rise on account of the 
gun. His method may have been what he called 
"politics." Nevertheless he really lost the road, 
and we ourselves lost it, although we had a guide. 
It is almost impossible for a stranger to find his 
way among the intricate Judean valleys. 



154 



PALESTINE 



We have compared the disjointed mountains 
of Samaria with the long ridges of the Appala- 
chians. It is equally appropriate to compare Ju- 
dea with the Allegheny plateau in Kentucky and 
Tennessee. The Poor or Mountain Whites of that 
region are a familiar example of the effect of se- 
clusion upon men of the world's best stock. On 
the way from Cincinnati southward to Chatta- 
nooga one traverses the rich rolling lands of the 
Blue Grass country of Kentucky, and then enters 
the Allegheny plateau, where the Poor Whites 
live. The railroad winds and tunnels through 
wooded hills. It crosses great trestles high over 
rivers which run at the bottom of deep valleys 
cut in horizontal limestone. The sides of the val- 
leys are bordered by terraced cliffs so steep as to 
be inaccessible in most places. The appearance 
of the country is enough to show that the inhab- 
itants must be ignorant, narrow, exclusive. One 
is not surprised to hear a track inspector on the 
railroad say, "In here we can't use niggers on 
railroad work. The Whites won't have it. If we 
bring 'em, they'll just shoot 'em. They're wild, 
ignorant folks, these Mountain Whites. They'd 
just as soon shoot a man as eat. You can't teach 
'em better. No, you're wrong. It ain't the kind 
of country that they live in. They're just nat- 
'rally backward and ignorant." In spite of the 
railroad-man, there can be little doubt that the 
Mountain Whites have stagnated because they 



A CONTRAST 



155 



happened to settle in a plateau of horizontal 
limestone, deeply dissected by valleys. The in- 
fluence of the plateau has been good as well as 
evil. It has fostered hardihood and bravery. It 
prevented slave-holding and its attendant evils. 
The Whites may have stagnated, but they are 
not all like the boy whose mother said that he 
was "right smart backward about learning fast." 
Lincoln is not the only man of exceptional abil- 
ity who has sprung from among them. It would 
be a mistake to carry the comparison between the 
Allegheny and Judean regions too far, for there 
are most important points of difference. The two 
plateaus are of precisely the same structure, how- 
ever, and both are so inaccessible and difficult to 
traverse that the inhabitants have been cut off 
from the rest of the world and have developed 
along peculiar lines. 

Before the great transformation came to Pales- 
tine, the people of Judea were like children living 
in a retired house among the woods, near a great 
road, but far back out of sight and sound of it. 
Those of Samaria were like children whose home 
stands close upon the busy turnpike, whose friends 
are the teamsters and hucksters, and whose play- 
ground is the dust of the street or the vacant lot 
across the way. The limestone of the Judean 
plateau rises in the heights of Gerizim and Ebal 
on either side of Shechem, it is continued in the 
mountains northeast of the city of Samaria, and 



156 



PALESTINE 



it ends where Mount Gilboa drops sharply down 
to the smooth Vale of Jezreel. Northwest of the 
high land thus defined in southern and eastern 
Samaria, the limestone dips downward, and is 
covered for a space of perhaps twenty miles by 
the chalk and other soft formations which con- 
stitute the Shephelah farther south. Here the 
unresistant rocks have been worn into low, 
rounded hills, and open vales, through which the 
great highways of the past found easy passage. 
North of the low region the limestone rises once 
more into the long ridge of Carmel, faintly arched 
along the summit, and dropping precipitously 
to the sea. 

I cannot refrain from quoting the description 
of Carmel which Professor George Adam Smith 
gives in that best of all books on Palestine, "The 
Historical Geography of the Holy Land " : — 

"Sweeping seawards, Carmel is the first of 
Israel's hills to meet the rains, and they give him 
of their best. He is clothed in verdure. To-day 
it is mostly wild — fresh open jungle, coppices 
of oak and carob, with here and there a grove 
of great trees. But in ancient times most of the 
hill was cultivated. The name means The Gar- 
den, and in the rock, beneath the wild bush that 
now covers so much of it, grooved floors and 
troughs have been traced, sufficiently numerous 
to be proof of large harvests of grape and olive. 
The excellency of Carmel was now the figure of 



A CONTRAST 



157 



human beauty, and now the mirror of the lavish 
goodness of God; that Carmel should languish 
— Carmel in the very gateway of the rains — 
is the prophets' most desperate figure of desola- 
tion. 

k "But it is as a sanctuary that the long hill is 
best remembered in history. In its separation 
from other hills, its position on the sea, its visi- 
bleness from all quarters of the country; in its 
uselessness for war or traffic; in its profusion of 
flowers, its high platforms and groves, with their 
glorious prospects of land and sea, Carmel must 
have been a place of retreat and of worship from 
the earliest times. It was claimed for Baal; but, 
even before Elijah's day, an altar had stood upon 
it for Jehovah. About this altar — as on a spot 
whose sanctity they equally felt — the rival 
faiths met in that contest, in which for most of us 
all the history of Carmel consists. The story in 
the Book of Kings is too vivid to be told again; 
but it is not without interest to know that the 
awful debate, whether Jehovah or Baal was su- 
preme lord of the elements, was fought out for a 
full day in face of one of the most sublime pros- 
pects of earth and sea and heaven. Before him 
who stands on Carmel, nature rises in a series of 
great stages from sea to Alp : the Mediterranean, 
the long coast to north and south, with its hot 
sands and palms; Esdraelon covered with wheat, 
Tabor and the lower hills of Galilee with their 



158 



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oaks, — then, over the barer peaks of Upper 
Galilee and the haze that is about them, the clear 
snow of Hermon, hanging like an only cloud in 
the sky. It was in the face of that miniature uni- 
verse that the Deity who was Character was vin- 
dicated as Lord against the deity who was not. 
It was over all that realm that the rain swept up 
at the call of the same God who exposed the in- 
justice of the tyrant and avenged the wrongs of 
Naboth" (pp. 339-341). 

Strange that the last great stand of true re- 
ligion in northern Israel should be in this out- 
post where the hard strata of Judea rise for the 
last time before being cut off by the great break 
of Esdraelon. Here in this small refuge among 
the hills a sanctuary of Jehovah had probably 
been preserved when all the surrounding region 
fell into Baal worship; but Carmel could not stem 
the tide of advancing heathenism. The fierce de- 
nunciations of Elijah and the loving tenderness 
with which Elisha met the Shunammite woman 
when she came to Carmel to bring him word of 
the death of her son, were alike powerless to 
counteract the influence of the great highways 
which separated Carmel from the main body of 
Samaria. 

These highways are the most distinctive fea- 
ture of Samaria. Out from the marts of rich Egypt 
poured the traffic. Caravans of pattering donkeys 
with sacks of grain thrown across their backs were 



A CONTRAST 



159 



followed by strings of slow-pacing camels, which 
stopped at times, while the bearded caravan-men 
twitched the ropes of the cruel headstalls and 
forced the huge beasts, in spite of their snarling 
roars, to kneel and have their loads adjusted. 
Cavalcades of gorgeous horsemen armed with 
spear and bow surrounded sleek mules bearing 
some great man and his veiled wives with a 
host of servants. Couriers speeding post-haste 
on the king's business passed chariots wherein 
proud officers of state journeyed to and from 
their posts. And with all these the humble 
throng of ragged poor men plodded on, shuffling 
in worn sandals or stirring the dust with unshod 
feet. Wrapped up in each long gay girdle was 
store of gritty flat sheets of bread. The rest of 
the travellers' goods were tied in stained pieces 
of cloth, and swung over their shoulders on 
sticks. A small part of the traffic from Egypt took 
the road to Petra, which runs well to the south 
of Palestine, and thence through northern Ara- 
bia to Chaldea and Elam. By far the greater 
portion came up the coast to Gaza and Joppa. 
Then, striking slightly inland, the travellers and 
their patient beasts skirted the inner edge of the 
Plain of Sharon to the latitude of northern Sa- 
maria. There three roads cross the low chalk 
hills south of Carmel. The easiest and most fre- 
quented leads up the broad valley of Dothan to 
Jenin, the ancient En-gannim. Thence a branch 



160 



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runs northward to join the second road at Naza- 
reth, but the main track passes on a little north 
of east to Beisan, formerly Beth-shean, in the 
Jordan Valley. In the Decapolis or Hauran, the 
road divides. One branch runs northward to 
Damascus, the other eastward to Bosra in Bashan, 
and so straight across the desert to Babylonia. 

The second road crosses Samaria eight miles 
north of the first. It passes through Megiddo, 
where the Egyptians fought a great battle with 
the Syrians fifteen long centuries before the 
days of Christ. Nazareth is the next station. 
Then the route traverses Galilee, passes north 
of the lake of Tiberias, and reaches Damascus. 
There all the trade of northern Syria, the land of 
the Hittites, northern Mesopotamia, and Assy- 
ria converges to pour out along one road or the 
other through Samaria to Egypt. The third of 
the roads which put Samaria in touch with the 
great world continues northward from the Plain 
of Sharon, parallel to the Mediterranean coast, 
but bending slightly to the east to avoid the 
southern end of the heights of Carmel. An alter- 
native route hugs the coast, skirting the base 
of the cliffs among the rocks at the northern 
end of Carmel, and avoiding Samaria. But it is 
harder than the route southeast of Carmel, and, 
except for those whose destination is Haifa, no 
shorter. Hence the Samaritan road carried most 
of the traffic between Egypt and the Philistine 



A CONTRAST 



161 



plain on the south, and Akka, Tyre, Sidon, and 
the rich Phoenician coast on the north. 

All three of the great trade routes poured forth 
their influence upon Samaria. Coming up from 
the south as one, they passed but twelve miles 
west of the city of Samaria, — twelve easy miles 
down an open valley. The southern road, the 
first of the three, bent eastward in an arc, so that 
on the north it was only ten miles distant from 
the city. Not only trade, but armies followed 
these routes. The Philistines came up this 
way — roundabout as it may seem — when they 
were at war with Saul and Jonathan. They knew 
that it would be easier to strike at Samaria than 
at Judea, or, perchance, they felt the value of 
controlling the great avenues of commerce. At 
any rate Jezreel, on the southern border of the 
plain of Esdraelon, was where they met and de- 
feated the Israelites. Time after time Egyptian, 
Assyrian, Syrian, or Hittite armies passed this 
way. In later days Alexander, the Romans, the 
Crusaders, Napoleon, and the modern Turks 
could find no better route. In the ebb and flow of 
armies and of traffic wave after wave of foreign 
influence inevitably swept into Samaria. The 
Phoenician came with his idols and his love of 
gold, the Syrian with his vain pomp, and the 
Hittite and Assyrian spreading fear and destruc- 
tion. Samaria, open as she was, and crossed by 
the only available lines for the eager traffic of the 



162 



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East, could not hold her own. The waves of for- 
eign influence destroyed her individuality. The 
same waves broke against the bulwarks of Judea, 
and were checked. Often they showered the land 
with spray, but only in the rarest cases did the 
waters completely engulf it. And even then, they 
quickly ebbed, and the rugged plateau returned 
to the isolation which was its strength. 



CHAPTER VIII 

GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 

Wrong as they were in the broader sense, the 
scornful Pharisees were historically correct in 
their taunt of Nicodemus for his defence of Jesus. 
"Art thou also of Galilee? Search and see that 
out of Galilee ariseth no prophet." In the days 
of Christ the Jews of Galilee were mere provin- 
cials in the eyes of Jerusalem, — uninstructed in 
the Law, and speaking a vulgar dialect corrupted 
with foreign phrases. Behind them lay nothing 
in the way of noble deeds. In all the history of 
the Children of Israel, from the days of Abraham 
to the close of the Old Testament, no great event 
is recorded as having taken place in Galilee. 
Barak, to be sure, gathered his army at Mount 
Tabor, but the ensuing battle with Sisera was 
fought on the banks of the Brook Kishon in the 
plain of Esdraelon. Other battles and great 
events took place in Esdraelon, but all were on 
the southern border, and were identified with 
Samaria rather than with the northern province. 
If Jesus had not lived in Galilee and preached 
beside its lake, the name would mean no more to 
the world than, for example, does that of Elam. 



164 



PALESTINE 



Galilee is mentioned but six times in the Old Tes- 
tament, Elam thirteen. 

According to the traditions of the Conquest, 
Joshua divided Galilee among the tribes of Is- 
sachar, Zebulon, Asher, and Naphtali. As a mat- 
ter of fact the province probably never became 
thoroughly Hebraized at any time. In the most 
prosperous days of the Israelites it was so far from 
being an integral part of Israel that Solomon, 
willingly, or because he could make no better 
terms, "gave Hiram twenty cities in the land of 
Galilee." The prophet Isaiah does not appear to 
regard it as forming any part of the land of the 
Jews, for he calls it "Galilee of the Gentiles." 
The title was justified. In the days of the Macca- 
bees we are expressly told that the region con- 
tained only a few Jews living in the midst of great 
numbers of heathen. Strabo does not even men- 
tion the Jews among its inhabitants. Possibly he 
was not aware of the influx of that race during 
the last century or two before Christ. Or perhaps 
he did not deem it sufficiently important to be 
worthy of mention; for the Jews came only into 
the south of Galilee and the part around the lake. 

In later days, however, after the fall of Jerusa- 
lem, Galilee was the final refuge of Judaism. 
Thither the Sanhedrin moved, and there large 
portions of the Talmud were written. When the 
obstinacy and tenacity of purpose which the 
Judean plateau had fostered compelled the Ro- 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 165 



mans finally to destroy Jerusalem and scatter 
the Jews, Galilee at last found a place in their 
history, but it had no part in their development. 
Yet to-day many intelligent people suppose that 
Galilee ranks with Judea as a factor in the growth 
of the character and religion of the Jewish people. 
The connection of Jesus with Galilee has com- 
pletely overshadowed the insignificance of the 
province from any other standpoint. 

The physical features of Galilee explain why 
its history, apart from the life of Christ, was so 
much less important than that of Judea or even 
Samaria. This northern province of western Pal- 
estine falls naturally into two divisions, Upper 
and Lower. Upper Galilee is a little plateau about 
twenty-five miles long from north to south, and 
twenty wide. It is neither more nor less than a 
relatively low and somewhat detached continu- 
ation of Lebanon. In form it is a plateau, but not 
of quite the same type as that of Judea. Origi- 
nally its limestone strata were folded in the 
fashion of those of Samaria, but probably not so 
much. Later, erosion reduced it to a condition 
of comparatively low relief, although possibly 
not to a peneplain. Then, not far from the time 
when the country assumed its present form and 
elevation, large sheets of lava were poured out 
from various volcanoes. Where lava caps the 
country erosion has not been able to proceed 
rapidly. Therefore Upper Galilee stands high, 



> 166 



PALESTINE 



while Lower Galilee is low. The boundary be- 
tween the two is not well marked on most maps, 
but it is distinct in nature. North of a line run- 
ning approximately from Akka to the northern 
end of the Sea of Galilee the country lies at an 
elevation of over 2000 feet. The loftiest moun- 
tain, Jebel Jermak, eight or ten miles northwest 
of the Sea of Galilee, rises to a height of 3900 feet. 
South of the line much of the land lies less than 
1000 feet above the sea; and Tabor, the highest 
summit, reaches an altitude of only 1850 feet. 
On the east Upper Galilee is sharply bounded 
by the depression of the Jordan Valley. On the 
north it is separated from Lebanon by a broad 
sag in the mountains as a whole, and by the nar- 
row gorge which the Litany River has cut where 
it turns westward across the general trend of 
the chief highlands and valleys. Galilee does not 
in any sense depend upon Lebanon for its springs 
or its rain, as is sometimes said, for the two are 
distinctly separated. 

The plateau of Upper Galilee is not so dry and 
rugged as Judea. The height of the mountains 
causes a relatively heavy rainfall. The basaltic 
rocks and the deep, dark volcanic soil to which 
they give rise retain the moisture much better 
than the half -naked, porous limestones of Judea. 
Hence springs and streams flow with a steadi- 
ness unknown in southern Palestine. Vegetation 
is abundant. The mountains are dark with open 




THE BEST HOUSES OF ME J DEL IN THE PLAIN OF GENNESARET 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 167 



forest of small oaks, which diminish to scrub on 
the eastern side of the plateau. The valleys are 
full of bushes and thickets, and the gentler 
slopes are covered with fertile grainfields. To 
the inhabitant of Judea or of the dry regions to 
the east, it seems a fertile land; but when "Hiram 
came out from Tyre to see the cities which 
Solomon had given him, they pleased him not." 
Doubtless the villages — for such they must have 
been rather than cities — were within twenty 
miles of Tyre, and were inhabited by Phoeni- 
cians. They were in the mountains, however, and 
it was impossible that they should be so rich 
and productive as the little plain around Hiram's 
own city. 

In describing the borders of Upper Galilee I 
have purposely omitted all mention of the west- 
ern boundary. The reason is that there was no 
such boundary; or, at least, if Galilee be reck- 
oned as a part of Palestine, it is practically im- 
possible to say where the province ended on the 
west. The Galilean hills run to the coast in many 
places and form headlands such as the bold 
"Ladder of Tyre." Elsewhere they are sepa- 
rated from the sea by small plains of which that 
of Akka is much the largest. If Upper Galilee 
be reckoned as a part of Phoenicia, on the other 
hand, the Mediterranean is the western border. 
As a matter of fact, both the physical form of the 
country and its history proclaim it a part of 



168 



PALESTINE 



Phoenicia. The main valleys open toward the 
west, the sea is nowhere more than twenty-five 
miles distant, the water is in sight from a large 
proportion of the villages, and there is nothing 
like the Philistine plain to separate the plateau 
from the coast. From three fourths of the province 
the easiest roads are those which lead seaward to 
the great towns of Tyre and Akka. Hence the 
inhabitants looked toward the west, and^ their 
affinity was with the Phoenicians rather than the 
Jews. 

Lower Galilee is as distinct from Upper Gali- 
lee as Samaria is from Judea. The difference 
between the two pairs of adjacent provinces is of 
much the same type. We might almost consider 
that Palestine west of the Jordan consists of four 
provinces, — the plateaus of Judea and Upper 
Galilee at either end, and the districts of Samaria 
and Lower Galilee, with their mixture of plains 
and rounded mountains, lying at lesser altitude, 
in the middle. Prom the point where the Jordan 
enters the Lake of Gennesaret, the eastern border 
of Lower Galilee extends southward twenty-five 
miles almost to Beth-shean. Thence the boundary 
runs a little north of west along the frontiers of 
Samaria past Jezreel to the southern border of the 
plain of Akka at the eastern base of Carmel. Turn- 
ing northward it passes Harosheth of the Gentiles, 
where Sisera lived, and for twenty miles follows 
the inner edge of the plain of Akka, ten miles 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 169 



from the sea. Finally, it trends due east for 
twenty-five miles to the starting-point. In this 
small district Jesus' ministry centred. The re- 
motest parts could be reached from Nazareth in 
an easy day's walk of less than twenty-five miles. 

In geological structure and scenery Lower 
Galilee is not widely different from Samaria. On 
the whole it lies at a less elevation than its sister 
province. Its ranges of hills are disposed more 
nearly east and west, or with a slight inclination 
to the northeast. It includes smooth, swampy 
plains such as Esdraelon to the south of Naza- 
reth and Asochis or Buttauf to the north. In 
both cases a downward movement of a part of 
the earth's crust has produced depressions upon 
whose flat floor water often stands in pools or 
marshes for months in the winter and spring, 
preventing agriculture. The important parts of 
Lower Galilee are the gentle hills and the broad 
valleys among them. Here the land is fertile, and 
agriculture is a profitable occupation. Rocky 
slopes are numerous, but are not a tithe as abun- 
dant as in Judea; and vegetation is much more 
vigorous than there. The grassy hills are often 
clothed with oak scrub or with trees of small size 
scattered in open order. The grainfields have 
a prosperous appearance. Yet the country is far 
from rich. Compared with Lebanon it is unfruit- 
ful. Compared with the better parts of Italy, it 
seems most barren. 



170 



PALESTINE 



This little province of Galilee lies in the centre 
of highly varied regions. The recorded life of 
Jesus was limited to a district scarcely larger 
than that which cities like Chicago reckon as sub- 
urban. Northward he went to Tyre on the coast 
and Csesarea Philippi at the lower springs of the 
Jordan. The distance of the one is only forty 
miles from Nazareth, and of the other less than 
fifty. If he went as far as Sidon, which is sug- 
gested, although not definitely stated in the New 
Testament, the distance from his home was only 
sixty-five miles. East of the Sea of Galilee and 
the Jordan, forty miles would cover all of the 
Decapolis and Perea which there is any likeli- 
hood that he ever visited. Jerusalem itself, by 
way of Samaria, is separated by but sixty-five 
miles from Nazareth. Aside from his journey to 
Egypt when his parents fled with him as an in- 
fant, we have no indication that he ever visited 
any place more remote from his home than Beth- 
lehem, seventy miles away. In his whole life after 
infancy Jesus never departed from home farther 
than a New Yorker would go who confined his 
travels to Trenton on the southwest and New 
Haven on the northeast, or a Londoner whose 
journeys did not extend beyond Southampton on 
the one side and Ipswich on the other. Yet in 
that space how vastly greater the variety than 
that which the Londoner or New Yorker would 
find. The trafficking Phoenicians of the coasts, 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 171 



the provincial Jews of Galilee, the Greek cities 
of the Decapolis, the backward Gileadites, the 
despised Samaritans, the exclusive Jews of Judea, 
and over all the Roman and his legions, recruited 
from the world. A man who travelled where 
Jesus did became cosmopolitan in spite of him- 
self. 

Even if Jesus had never left his home in Naza- 
reth, he could not have escaped the influence of 
the surrounding nations. Lower Galilee, only less 
than Samaria, is crossed by main lines of traffic. 
Of the three great routes from Egypt to the north 
which traversed Samaria, the middle one passed 
up through Galilee by way of Nazareth to the 
northern end of the Sea of Tiberias. It was not 
the easiest route to Damascus, but the shortest, 
and for travellers on horseback it was in many 
respects the best. At right angles to this route ran 
another, along which passed the traffic from the 
busy Phoenician coast to the Decapolis, and the 
prosperous regions southward beyond Jordan 
as far as Petra. The fact that Nazareth is now 
secluded and that Galilee is far from the bustle 
and hurry of the great world is apt to mislead us. 
We must remember that up to the time of Christ 
and for a few centuries thereafter, Damascus, as 
a focus of trade, held a position corresponding al- 
most to that of Chicago or even London to-day. 
Phoenicia corresponded to the manufacturing and 
commercial districts of the North Atlantic coast 



172 



PALESTINE 



in America, or to the part of England northwest 
of a line drawn from Bristol to Hull. The farm- 
ing country of the Decapolis and southward was 
as populous and prosperous as Iowa or as the 
southeastern lowland of England. Lower Galilee 
and northern Samaria lay in the path of trade ex- 
actly as the Mohawk Valley now does in central 
New York, or as the Cheshire Gap does between 
London and Liverpool. Albany, Troy, Syracuse, 
Rochester, Buffalo, and a score of smaller cities 
have grown and prospered because of the geo- 
graphic features which have made the line fol- 
lowed by the New York Central Railroad the 
greatest of American trade routes; and in like 
manner Rugby has become one of England's chief 
junction points, and Birmingham was an impor- 
tant trading mart centuries before the smoke of 
her coal hid her from the sun, simply because 
both cities lie on the English line of easiest and 
most important traffic. Syria is planned upon a 
scale smaller than that of America, or even of 
England, but the intensity of movement and the 
effect upon the regions through which the trade 
routes passed was probably little less than in 
these modern days. Indeed the influence of traffic 
was greater in the past than now, so far as inter- 
mediate stations were concerned. To-day thou- 
sands of freight cars remain locked from one great 
city to another. They pass through the interven- 
ing regions without touching the life of the little 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 173 



villages along the way. Before the days of steam, 
conditions were wholly different. Caravans of 
pack animals rarely travel more than twenty-five 
miles a day, and they do not average over fifteen 
including halts. Every village along the way is 
a stopping place. Often the travelling merchants 
turn aside a few miles to avoid the crowd at cer- 
tain points, or in the hope of finding cheaper food 
or more abundant grazing for the animals. Every 
villager with aught to sell, if he cannot find ready 
sale in his own home market, bethinks him of the 
caravan stations. He loads his donkeys with pan- 
niers of grapes, rope crates of melons, coarse bags 
of barley, or sheaves of half-dried hay, and wends 
his way to the great highroad. A day's journey 
thither and a day's journey back is no great mat- 
ter. No part of Lower Galilee or of Samaria north 
of Shechem lies farther from a great caravan road 
than a man might drive the slowest donkey in a 
day. The oriental, like his occidental brother, 
must gossip and get the news when he sits idle of 
an evening, or waits for buyers to come. Thus 
in the days of active caravan traffic the low por- 
tions of Palestine between the plateaus at either 
end were permeated through and through by out- 
side influences. They could not remain secluded. 
Therefore the prophets wailed over "the wicked- 
ness of Samaria"; and the northern province was 
"Galilee of the Gentiles." 
Although Galilee was for the most part a land 



174 



PALESTINE 



of the Gentiles, the portion comprised within the 
Jordan Valley was a pronounced Jewish centre in 
the days of Christ's great ministry. Here the flow 
of the river was interrupted by two small lakes, 
the only important bodies of fresh water in all 
Syria. Let us see how each of them was formed. 
Long before the days of man, but late in geologi- 
cal time, lava poured down from the volcano of 
Jebel Jermak in Upper Galilee, or from other less 
distinct sources, and partially filled the valley of 
the Ghor. Thus a dam was produced behind 
which the Jordan was checked to form the Waters 
of Merom, also known as the lake of Huleh. The 
lake at first was far larger than the present little 
sheet of water, which is scarcely four miles long. 
Little by little, however, the Jordan has deposited 
its perennial load of silt, and the northern part of 
the lake has been converted into a swampy haunt 
of wild fowl. In time the lake will be drained by 
the cutting of a channel at the outlet, but as yet 
this process has only begun. Nevertheless where 
the water flows over the southern side of the lava 
dam, it has cut a deep gorge. In the space of 
scarcely six miles the river falls from the level of the 
Mediterranean at the lake of Huleh to nearly 
seven hundred feet below sea-level at the Sea of 
Galilee. After thousands of years of freedom the 
wasted energy of the falling water is at last being 
harnessed by a French company for the develop- 
ment of electricity. 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 175 

Other lava flows, smaller than those which 
formed Huleh, poured into the Ghor from south- 
ern Galilee on the one side, and down the valley 
of the Yarmuk on the other. In somewhat later 
times, for reasons which we shall soon consider, 
the Dead Sea stood far higher than now, and 
expanded so far to the north that the Yarmuk 
flowed into it instead of into the Jordan. Hence 
the abundant silt borne by the Yarmuk was de- 
posited in the form of a delta at the point where 
that river now enters the Jordan. The combined 
effect of the lava and of the silt laid down upon it 
was to produce a second dam, behind which the 
Sea of Galilee gathered as a harp-shaped sheet, 
thirteen miles long by seven wide. Although the 
lake is decreasing slightly in size, partly by the 
deposition of a delta where the Jordan enters on 
the north, and partly by the slow cutting down of 
the channel where the river emerges, the process 
is so slow that the lake is of essentially the same 
size and shape as in the days of Christ. 

A lake is always an addition to the landscape. 
If the water laves the foot of mountains, the view 
must needs be beautiful. If the slopes are green 
with the fresh grass of spring, and the waters 
are deep purple in the shallows along the shore, 
pale purple or lilac where the wind does not get 
a full sweep, and deep green where the waves are 
high, no one can fail to be filled with the joy of 
its beauty. Let the color change to darker green 



176 



PALESTINE 



when the wind blows more strongly, while the 
edges become peacock blue. Climb higher until 
the whole expanse lies as a sheet of blue. See the 
gorge of the upper Jordan off there to the north 
like a broad V, and snowy Hermon crowning the 
view. Look across to the east at the Jaulan, de- 
scending gently from the north and studded with 
the symmetrical cones of small volcanoes which 
break but do not destroy the smooth sweep of the 
upland. Include the mountains of Gilead to the 
south, like a lens of delicate blue, thickened in the 
middle. Turn north again to the green plain of 
Gennesaret sloping to the water's edge. People the 
shores with prosperous towns embowered in 
gardens, and filled with the busy crowd which 
thronged to hear Christ preach. Yonder two sails 
appear as specks of white. Even as we look they 
multiply to scores of fishing-boats, manned by 
men like Peter and John, and filled with the eager 
multitude who followed Christ to share the loaves 
and fishes. No wonder such a lake has aroused 
enthusiasm for well-nigh twice a thousand years. 

It is almost impossible to separate the Sea of 
Galilee from the loving ministry of Christ. Here 
he tended the sick and suffering, preached the 
Sermon on the Mount, called the disciples to 
become fishers of men, and spent the happiest 
and outwardly most successful portion of his 
manhood. Yet it is essential to distinguish between 
the lake as it really is and the lake as we love to 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 177 



imagine it. Unquestionably this Sea of Tiberias 
is beautiful in many respects. In spring, when the 
hills are green for a month or two, it is at its best. 
The rest of the year its appearance is not such 
as to arouse enthusiasm. We visited the lake in 
late June. On the twenty-first of the month 
we camped in the plain of Gennesaret whither we 
had come that day from Nazareth by way of 
Mount Tabor. In order to show the impression 
made by the lake when we thus reached it after 
months of travel, I quote the following descrip- 
tion directly from my notebook without recasting 
it into literary form: — 

"The view of the lake shores is very barren. 
The plain of Gennesaret itself, on the edge of 
which we are camped, is well tilled by Jewish 
colonists, who employ Arabs. It is covered with 
fields of millet, egg-plant, tomatoes, wheat, and 
so forth, and seems rich. The shores along Gen- 
nesaret are prettily fringed with oleanders still 
in blossom, and with another plant bearing blue 
flowers in spikes like spirea, and scented like mint. 
The scenery around the rest of the lake is very 
barren — a clump of trees and a windmill at the 
German convent, a white house at Tell Hum, a 
few patches of green halfway up on the eastern 
side — that is all. The rest is dull brown, steep 
to the east, rising gently to the north. It is not 
so bad as the Dead Sea, but it is very barren." 
• Galilee has suffered the same change as other 



178 



PALESTINE 



parts of the country. To-day Tiberias is the only 
town on its shores. The little village of Semakh 
at the south end is important for tourists who 
come by rail, but in no other respect. Squalid 
little Me j del is the only other real village on the 
lake shore. It stands on the southern edge of the 
plain of Gennesaret, sole representative not only 
of Magdala, whose name it still preserves, but 
of Capernaum, Bethsaida, Chorazin, and no one 
knows how many other places. Once the shores of 
the Sea of Galilee were lined with almost continu- 
ous cities, villages, and gardens. According to an- 
cient accounts, nine cities stood beside the lake, 
and each had at least fifteen thousand inhabitants. 
Some probably had more, and there must have 
been a large number of smaller villages. The 
population may have been fully 150,000. Even 
if the figures are exaggerated and the true pop- 
ulation was only 100,000 or 50,000, the contrast 
between the past and the present is startling. 
To-day Tiberias is supposed to have about 5000 
inhabitants. The other villages and the nomads 
who frequent the north end do not amount to a 
thousand souls all told. The cause of the present 
dearth of population is not far to seek. It is lack 
of water, either in the form of rain or in streams 
from the highlands. The conditions closely repeat 
those of En-Gedi. The Sea of Galilee lies in 
the lee of the hills, just as the Wilderness of Judea 
lies in the lee of the plateau. Therefore it receives 



GALILEE OF THE GENTILES 179 



decidedly less rain than the regions west of it. The 
contrast is not so great as in the Judean district, 
but it is of the same sort. The country around 
the lake is not a desert, but it is so dry that ag- 
riculture is either impossible or highly precarious 
without water for irrigation. The amount of water 
available in streams is small. It comes chiefly 
from the volcanic region in the south of Upper 
Galilee, and waters a part of the plain of Gen- 
nesaret. Therefore that plain is the only fertile 
region around the lake. In former times a popu- 
lation such as dwelt there could scarcely have 
supported itself, unless the rainfall had been suf- 
ficient to make agriculture possible on all the 
borders of the lake. The Galilee of Christ's day 
must have been a paradise compared with that 
of to-day. 



CHAPTER IX 



THE GHOR AND THE DEAD SEA 

The great naturalist Humboldt held that no 
other geological phenomenon in all the world is 
so profoundly important as the Ghor. Many- 
other scientists have agreed with him. Consid- 
ered simply as a geological matter, the Ghor is a 
marvellous example of a long, narrow slice of the 
earth's crust dropped thousands of feet below the 
plateaus on either side. Contrary to the old belief, 
a river whose valley has not been made by the 
action of water, but by the movement of the 
earth's crust, is one of the rarest of phenomena. 
So far as is known the Jordan is the only con- 
siderable river which flows in a valley practically 
ready-made from head to mouth. 

Considered from the geographic point of view, 
the Ghor is equally remarkable. At its northern 
end, if we apply the name to the whole depres- 
sion from the latitude of Damascus to the Gulf 
of Akaba, the fertile plain of its floor is covered 
with an abundant growth of grass and grain, with 
bushy thickets here and there, and with groves 
of oak and terebinth in well-watered areas where 
cultivation is not profitable. Then come the 
swamps and lake of Huleh, with gorges cut in 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 181 



lava both above and below. The Sea of Galilee 
follows, with all its significance in the life of Jesus. 
As it leaves the lake, the Jordan flows clear and 
sweet among lily pads, or white and foamy over 
rapids. It has no valley of any appreciable depth, 
and runs scarcely below the level of the grassy 
plain. Two or three villages lie near it, their mud 
houses nestling among palms, and surrounded 
by orchards heavy with figs and apricots. Soon, 
however, the river cuts for itself a narrow inner 
valley with walls of whitish clay. Little by little 
the water gathers silt, and the stream in its lower 
course is thick with mud. It flows between brakes 
of tamarisk, but above the banks on either side 
the floor of the Ghor is barren, a saline desert 
waste. And so the river loses itself in the Dead 
Sea. 

Formerly this intensely saline sea in the bot- 
tom of the Ghor was supposed to be a concentrated 
remnant of the ocean. Now we know that this 
is far from the case. The Dead Sea has become 
salty because the water of the Jordan, the Yar- 
muk, the Jabbok, the Arnon, and every other 
tributary contains an inappreciable quantity of 
salt, just as does almost every stream in the 
world. For hundreds of thousands of years the 
streams have poured into the lowest hollow of 
the Ghor. The hollow is so deep and the climate 
so dry that, so far as can be ascertained, the 
Dead Sea has never risen to the point of over- 



182 



PALESTINE 



flowing. Year by year the water has been re- 
moved by evaporation, and the lake has been 
prevented from rising sufficiently to overflow. 
The salt, therefore, has always remained behind, 
and has increased until now it amounts to twenty- 
five per cent by weight of the brine of this most 
saline of all the world's important lakes. 

South of the Dead Sea the Ghor becomes more 
and more completely a desert. Sand dunes lie 
in drifting heaps for miles; or desolate expanses 
of barren gravel extend from escarpment to es- 
carpment. Thus the great depression continues 
until its lower end is hid beneath the waters of 
the Gulf of Akaba. Many believe that it per- 
sists far to the south beyond the Red Sea in the 
famous Rift Valley of central Africa, and per- 
haps in the long narrow trough of Tanganyika. 

Remarkable as is the Ghor both geologically and 
geographically, these aspects were not the chief 
cause of Humboldt's famous opinion. The histori- 
cal aspect of the depression appealed to him as even 
more remarkable than the others. If the Judean 
plateau had been open to the inroads of Arabs as 
Moab was, we may safely say that the Jews could 
never have developed their religious ideas to the 
high point at which Christ took them up. His 
life, his preaching, and his influence upon the 
world would never have been such as they are 
if the Ghor had not sheltered Judea. Yet strangely 
enough, or rather naturally, in view of its in- 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 183 



hospitable character, the Ghor is even now but 
slightly known in the portion adjacent to Judea. 
Thousands of tourists, to be sure, visit it annually, 
driving from Jerusalem through Jericho to the 
Bathing Place on the Jordan, and thence back 
by way of the northern end of the Dead Sea, a 
carriage ride of a day and a half. Few, however, 
realize the profound importance of what they 
are seeing. More, indeed, are like the stout tired 
tourist at our hotel in Jerusalem, who complained 
that so fatiguing a drive was not in the least 
worth while for the sake of the sight of miles of 
desert, and a stop of fifteen minutes at the Jordan, 
and a minute and a half at the Dead Sea, which 
was all that the manager of his tour allowed. We 
have already said so much about the protection 
afforded by the Ghor to Judea, that we shall not 
consider the matter further. We shall devote our 
attention to other matters connected with the 
Ghor, such as the characteristics of the Dead Sea, 
its surroundings, and the people who live near it. 

Where the Jordan River, grown turbid in its 
swift descent from Galilee, pours its light waters 
into the heavy brine of the Dead Sea, the sweet 
faint odors of the surrounding desert are dis- 
placed by the invigorating scent of salt marshes. 
Aside from the refreshing odor and the sight of 
sky and sea, there is little to suggest the lands 
with which the occidental is familiar. Standing 
west of the mouth of the Jordan, on a beach of 



184 



PALESTINE 



pebbles and cobblestones piled with gray branches 
of dead trees, the traveller sees on the right, south- 
ward, the deep waters of the Dead Sea, bounded 
on either side by a level-topped line of brown cliffs 
growing purple in the distance. At times the sea 
is dark blue, but in a quarter of an hour, as the 
wind changes, it may become peacock green and 
then pale pea-green, with purple shadows where 
clouds obscure for a space the hazy sky. On the 
left still lagoons, not salt like the sea, but merely 
brackish, are fringed with tall green reeds, back 
of which stand feathery tamarisk bushes, whose 
spikes of dainty white blossoms give out a deli- 
cate scent fit for a fairy princess. In front to the 
eastward across the rushing waters of the cool 
river the little Mount of Pisgah, whence Moses 
surveyed the Promised Land, forms a gently 
sloping brown dome rising slightly above the 
smooth, treeless skyline of the plateau of Moab. 

In all the view there is no sign of man except 
a fisherman's hut of rude timber and rushes set 
among the reeds by a lagoon, and a small patch 
of green fields at Suweimeh on the plain at the 
base of Pisgah, where Sodom possibly stood of 
old. To the west above the barren escarpment 
of the Judean plateau, the tower on the Mount 
of Olives, only eighteen miles away, is also in 
sight; but it belongs to another world far removed 
from the sunken, heat-stricken depression of the 
Dead Sea. The view does not suggest death or 




PALM TREES KILLED BY A RECENT RISE OF THE DEAD SEA 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 185 



desolation; for ducks, geese, and gulls swarm over 
the lagoons and over the shallow water of the 
delta, only a foot or two deep for half a mile from 
land. Here and there a kingfisher with white or 
yellowish breast poises with beating wings, then 
sinks and finally drops like a shot into the brack- 
ish water of the lagoons, only to rise and dive 
again in half a minute; cranes and bitterns flap 
slowly along, with legs stretched far astern; hawks, 
too, soar overhead; and far out in the shallow 
water of the delta, among scores of stranded tree 
trunks, tall whitish birds wade busily about, 
picking up food from a sea that is supposed to be 
dead. A sound alarms the long-necked fowl, and 
as they take wing a rosy flush like dawn shows 
that they are flamingoes. 

The abundant life of plant and bird about the 
delta of the Jordan almost makes one suspect 
that the sea has been misnamed; that it is not 
dead, but living. Go along the lifeless beach 
away from the Jordan for a mile or two, however, 
and note the entire absence of shellfish and wa- 
ter-loving insects, and even of algae. Look at the 
gaunt groups of dead tamarisk bushes or palms 
that stand offshore at the mouth of the occa- 
sional trickling streams at the base of the pla- 
teaus. They bear potent witness to the deaden- 
ing power of the water, which during the past 
thirty years has risen six or eight feet. Or stand 
by the mouth of the Jordan and watch the muddy 



186 



PALESTINE 



stream. Something white shines and is sucked 
under, — a dead fish floating seaward; and after 
the first a second and perhaps a third, killed by 
the bitter brine of the sea even before actually 
reaching it. The refreshing smell of salt marshes 
is in reality for the most part the odor of decay- 
ing plants and animals killed by the saline water. 
The Dead Sea well deserves its name. 

To facilitate the study of the Dead Sea, and 
especially of its old shore lines, a part of the 
equipment of the Yale Expedition consisted of 
a fourteen-foot folding boat of canvas. At Con- 
stantinople we were fortunately warned that the 
sea was not devoid of boats, as we had supposed. 
The former Sultan, Abdul Hamid II, as private 
owner of the Jordan- Arab ah depression, had sold 
to a Jew and an Arab the exclusive right to put 
boats on the Dead Sea. They had fitted up an [old 
forty-foot sloop with a ten-horse-power kerosene 
engine, and this with two tenders formed the en- 
tire Dead Sea fleet. The fishermen on the lower 
Jordan, sea-loving Greeks who still preserve the 
instincts fostered by the islands and bays of their 
fatherland, built some good-sized boats for use 
on the sea a few years ago, but were never al- 
lowed to launch them; and the craft now lie rot- 
ting among the pebbles and driftwood of the 
beach. The sloop of the concessionnaires makes 
occasional trips up and down the lake, to bring 
a few loads of barley from the southeast, or rarely 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 187 



to carry passengers; but for the most part the 
boat lies idle. ^It does not appear to be a profit- 
able speculation, although a well-equipped tourist 
launch might easily be made to pay if the remark- 
able nature of the scenery of the lake were once 
known. Thanks to our warning, we informed the 
American ambassador at Constantinople of our 
purpose to navigate the Dead Sea, and through his 
kind offices obtained permission to sail our little 
craft where we pleased. Otherwise we should 
have shared the fate of the Greek fishermen and 
been obliged to confine our navigation to the 
beach, for the watchman at the landing place 
protested violently against our infringement of 
the rights of his "patrons," and would not be 
quiet till a soldier came from the Mudir at Jeri- 
cho to confirm our permit. 

Our first two days on the Dead Sea were spent 
in trying the seaworthiness of our boat, examin- 
ing the lagoons at the mouth of the Jordan, and 
becoming acquainted with the sea itself. We had 
heard much of the bitterness of the water, its 
greasy, disagreeable qualities, its tendency to 
corrode metals, and its habit of remaining quiet 
under a wind up to a certain point, and then sud- 
denly rising into irresistible waves. It is scarcely 
so bad as it is painted. We expected to float half 
out of water when we bathed, and to find swim- 
ming difficult. As a matter of fact, one might 
stay in the water half an hour and never dis- 



188 



PALESTINE 



cover that it is different from sea water, unless he 
tasted it or got it into his eyes. In swimming 
one's shoulders are all the time out of water, and 
the ease with which it is possible to float is plea- 
sant. The oddest sensation is when one tries to 
walk out to his depth, and finds that when the 
water reaches the armpits he is taken off his feet 
and vainly wiggles his toes in an attempt to touch 
bottom. If a lagoon is at hand back of the pebbly 
beach, so that the bather can wash after swim- 
ming, a bath in the Dead Sea is delightful. One 
day at the northwest corner, about two miles from 
the place where visitors usually go, we chanced 
to wash ourselves in a lagoon whose bottom 
was covered with bitumen. The water felt cool 
as we stepped in, but, to our surprise, it grew un- 
bearably hot toward the middle. It was warmed 
by springs welling up from heated depths along 
one of the many fissures characteristic of the 
faults whereby the plateaus have been separated 
from the Ghor. 

When the water of the Dead Sea dries upon 
hands or clothing, it is intensely disagreeable. 
After a day or two on the sea everything grows 
greasy and genuinely "nasty." It is almost im- 
possible to wipe the hands dry, and when they 
grow dry from evaporation, the skin feels stiff, 
and one wants to hold the fingers apart just as 
when mud dries on the hands. As to the waves, 
we did not find them markedly different from 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 189 



those of the ocean in the speed with which they 
rise, although they pound heavily when aroused. 

The desert conditions of the Ghor are respon- 
sible for many phenomena beside the saltness of 
the Dead Sea. One day, for instance, when we 
were camped at a place called Suweimeh, at the 
northeast corner of the sea, our worthless Coptic 
servant, Shukri, came in with news that some 
Arabs belonging to the robber tribes of the middle 
valley of the Jordan had come down from the north 
and had robbed and stripped some priests at the 
monastery of Beth-hoglah, close to the road where 
scores of tourists daily drive to and fro in perfect 
safety. While he was relating this tale, Mikhail, 
the cook, appeared, to say that a report had come 
that the robbers had stolen the goods of an archse- 
ologically minded priest at Ain Feshkah and left 
him almost naked. Next we heard that the owner 
of the cafe at the bridge over the Jordan had been 
visited, and was now poorer than formerly. Then 
came faithful Abdullah with word that the camel- 
keeper beside whose black tent we were camped 
had seen the robbers cross to our side of the 
Jordan in order to be safe from the law. Fif- 
teen or twenty of them had camped in the dense 
jungle a mile and a half from us, where I later 
saw the fresh vestiges of their camp. To com- 
plete our discomfort, the Arab who was to accom- 
pany Mr. Graham to Zoar as guide the next day, 
announced that he was afraid to go; and the local 



190 



PALESTINE 



sheikh, who was to bring horses to enable me to 
study the problem of Sodom, sent word that he 
intended to keep his horses in the mountains, 
where they would be safe. We slept with our guns 
beside us that night; or rather, to be truthful, 
we scarcely slept at all till toward morning. It is 
hard to tell whether the danger was real or im- 
aginary. It certainly seemed real, and the camel- 
man's little brown dog barked most of the night, 
as if some one were prowling around watching 
the camp; but nothing happened, and we woke 
to laugh at our fears. The man with the horses 
appeared at the appointed time, and we rode 
mountainward to investigate Sodom and Zoar. 

Stories of raids and robberies are the common 
stock of travellers in Palestine; and one is almost 
afraid to tell them for fear of being thought to 
build on a small foundation of fact. Nevertheless, 
with the exception of Jericho and the places regu- 
larly visited by tourists and pilgrims, the lower 
portion of the Ghor is chronically in a state of un- 
rest, as it has been for ages, partly because the 
peculiar physical formation of the country renders 
it difficult for the government which holds the 
plateaus on either side to get at the robbers, and 
partly because the heat and dryness of the re- 
gion keep the Arabs in deep poverty. At best 
they manage to get a scanty living from their 
flocks and from a few half -tilled fields. A dry 
spring like that of 1909, when almost no rain fell 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 191 



during March, causes much unrest because the 
supply of grass for the flocks is scarce. The Arabs 
see before them the immediate prospect of lack 
of the actual necessities of life. At such times, 
according to the moral code which their environ- 
ment has fostered, there is no reason why a man 
should not rob if he sees men of another race or 
tribe living in plenty while he suffers want. 

Lack of space forbids a description of the bar- 
ren shores and limestone cliffs of the west coast 
of the Dead Sea, or of the salt deposits of Usdum 
at the southeast corner and the clays and salt 
of the desolate, flat - topped peninsula of the 
Lisan on the east. Enough that on both sides 
the shores are desolate and uninhabited, save for 
occasional nomads like those already described. 
An account of our experiences during a four days' 
trip down the east coast will afford some idea of 
the most impressive portion of the country around 
the sea. On this side of the Ghor the fault which 
separates the plateau and the depression is still 
more pronounced than on the other, and the 
scenery is correspondingly grander. Starting 
from Suweimeh, we rowed along a shore barren 
to the last degree according to Western ideas, 
but impressing us as decidedly green when we 
first came to it from the still more sterile western 
shore. Its greenness, needless to say, is due to 
the fact that here the westerly winds rise, and 
hence grow cool and give up a little moisture, 



192 



PALESTINE 



instead of descending and growing dry as on the 
western side. In the midst of this shore, a mile 
or two below Suweimeh, we were much inter- 
ested to come upon a little promontory of lava, 
of which more anon. Then came the Wadi Ghu- 
weir, and beyond it a small wadi full of palm trees 
growing wild. We came upon them unexpectedly, 
and were thrilled with that strange quickening 
of the imagination which the first sight of the 
graceful archaic trunks and rounded heads al- 
ways produces. Farther south the palms become 
numerous, growing in graceful clumps wherever 
a little water oozes from the horizontally bedded 
cliffs, or where one of the numerous hot springs 
wells up to support a green patch of reeds. 
The steep cliffs, the over - hanging palms, and 
the sparsely scattered acacia trees give to the 
landscape an appearance remarkably suggestive 
of pictures of the mountains of the interior of 
Morocco on the borders of the Sahara. 

Along the centre of the east coast lofty cliffs 
bound the sea, often rising in sheer precipices 
a hundred feet or more. Once, when we put up 
our sail to utilize a north wind in passing a bold 
headland with fine cliffs, the breeze grew to a 
high wind within a few minutes and changed to 
the northwest. The waves rose quickly, and we 
felt obliged to land; but precipices of naked red 
rock towered steeply for two or three miles ahead. 
To go back against the wind was impossible. We 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 193 



were obliged to run before it, keeping as far from 
the shore as possible and watching anxiously for 
a landing place as wave after wave broke over 
our stern. At length a break appeared in the 
cliffs, a small wadi with a few boulders at its 
mouth. We jumped out into heavy breakers, 
which threw us down and dashed the boat against 
the rocks so violently as to puncture the canvas 
bottom. When we came to prepare dinner that 
night we found that much of our food had been 
spoiled by the brine, which had come in over the 
stern to a depth of two or three inches; while 
our water supply, contained in goat - skin bags, 
had become nauseatingly brackish. The salt of 
the sea had penetrated the leather by osmosis 
while the bags lay in the half -filled boat. 

The loss of our provisions obliged us to turn 
back, but not until we had seen the mouth of the 
Wadi Mojib or Arnon, the finest scenery on the 
Dead Sea. Splendid red cliffs, banded with yellow 
and streaked with blue and green, tower out of 
the many-hued sea, which reflects all the colors 
of the rocks with added tints and harmonies of 
its own. Through the cliffs breaks a gorge scarcely 
more than a hundred feet wide at the base, and 
having walls that rise almost straight upward for 
several hundred feet. Out from the gorge flows 
a clear stream of fresh water, up which one can 
sail into the dark recesses of the chasm. Inward 
a narrow bed of reeds lies in pleasing contrast 



194 



PALESTINE 



to grotesquely sculptured cliffs of varied warm 
shades, while outward a frame of solid rock en- 
closes a bit of the bright sea, with the brown, 
even-topped cliffs of En-Gedi and the country 
of Hebron in the distance. 

Among the scientific problems connected with 
the Dead Sea none is more interesting than that 
of Sodom and Gomorrah. Hundreds of pages 
have been written to prove that the story is a 
myth, or that the ancient towns were destroyed 
by the bursting forth of oil wells like those of 
Texas or Baku, which sometimes are ignited and 
burn for days. Other hundreds of pages have 
been devoted to proving that Sodom and Go- 
morrah were, or were not, at the north end of the 
Dead Sea, and that they were, or were not, buried 
under the saline deposits at either end of the lake. 
Among recent writers there seems to be a ten- 
dency to believe that Sodom and its sister town 
may have been located at the south end of the 
lake where the name TJsdum is thought to re- 
present Sodom, and where Arab tradition now 
locates the ill-fated cities. The means of their 
destruction are believed to have been the oil 
wells mentioned above. This rather unsatisfac- 
tory conclusion has been adopted largely because 
it has been supposed that no volcano is located 
in such a position that it could have borne any 
part in the story. 

The identification of Biblical sites was not part 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 195 



of the intended work of the Yale Expedition, 
but no intelligent man can wander among places 
whose fame is world - wide without becoming 
keenly interested in them. According to the 
story in Genesis, Lot and Abraham were at Bethel, 
ten miles north of Jerusalem, when their herds- 
men quarrelled and they decided to separate. 
"And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the 
plain of the Jordan, that it was well watered 
everywhere, before Jehovah destroyed Sodom 
and Gomorrah, like the garden of Jehovah, like 
the land of Egypt, as thou goest unto Zoar. So 
Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan." Then 
the story goes on to the time when "Jehovah 
rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brim- 
stone and fire from Jehovah out of heaven," while 
Lot fled to the near town of Zoar. He did not 
stay there long, but "went out of Zoar and dwelt 
in the mountain — in a cave." 

Having freshly read the story and having 
looked over the strong arguments for locating the 
towns south of the Dead Sea and for believing 
them to have been destroyed by something in 
the nature of bituminous outbursts, I was taken 
by surprise when I visited the little ruin of Su- 
weimeh and picked up bits of genuine scoriaceous 
lava, while the sheikh who acted as guide told 
the story of Sodom as the story of Suweimeh. 
This side of the Ghor, as we have seen, is much 
greener than the other, and in the days of Lot it 



196 



PALESTINE 



may well have been like "the garden of Jehovah"; 
for in ancient times the climate of Palestine was 
probably much moister than it now is. I went 
into the mountains at once from Suweim in order 
to see the source of the lava. As we climbed the 
lower hills, the sheikh noticed that I picked up 
black stones and broke them open. "Don't 
bother with those/' he said. "Up here," point- 
ing southeast, "there is a whole mountain of black 
rock like that." Not two miles from Suweim, 
near the line of the great fault which separates 
the Ghor from the plateau of Moab, we found the 
mountain, a genuine little volcano of recent date 
geologically. From it flowed the lava which made 
the small headland already mentioned between 
Suweim and Ghuweir. The name Ghuweir is be- 
lieved by many students to be a corruption of 
Zoar, although it may also be an Arabic word, 
the diminutive of Ghor, meaning "Little Val- 
ley." A late eruption of ashes from the volcano, 
perhaps long after the lava flow, may easily have 
wrought havoc in a town located near Suweim. 
On the other hand, Ghuweir lies in such a situa- 
tion that it would be protected by intervening 
hills. 

The present ruins of Ghuweir doubtless date 
from a time at least two thousand years after 
the days of Abraham and Lot. One work of man, 
however, may go back to the period of the Pa- 
triarchs, and may have played a part in the Bibli- 



THE GHOR AND DEAD SEA 197 



cal narrative. Near the head of the valley which 
leads eastward from Ghuweir up toward the 
plateau of Moab we discovered a carefully ex- 
cavated cave among the mountains at a place 
called El Ghuttar, between Abu Hassan and 
Beth Peor. The cave is about twenty feet long 
and fifteen wide, carefully hewed out of the lime- 
stone above a spring. Two windows look down 
the wadi toward Zoar. A door with a rock-cut 
trough to lead off rain water is so located that it 
can be reached only by climbing a precipice by 
means of six or eight little niches cut in the rock, 
or by climbing down over some difficult steps in 
the cliff above. Nowhere else in this region is 
there known to be an artificial cave upon which 
any such care has been bestowed as upon this. 
The discovery of the cave supplements the vol- 
cano and the tradition of Suweimeh in supplying all 
the elements of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah 
in exactly the location where the Biblical account 
would lead one to expect them. The supposition 
that the climate of past times was different from 
that of to-day disposes of the difficulty which 
has arisen from the Scriptural reference to the fer- 
tility of the land. On the whole, the result of 
a strictly geographic study of the region tends to 
show that the Biblical account is almost exactly 
correct. The fact that students of the highest 
ability have been in such doubt as to the loca- 
tion of Sodom and Gomorrah shows how imper- 



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fectly the Ghor and the shores of the Dead Sea 
have been explored. So far as the mere name is 
concerned, few lakes are better known than the 
Dead Sea, but few have played a smaller part in 
the life of the people around them. To-day, as al- 
ways, most of the coast of the sea is inaccessible 
and uninhabited. In all the lapse of history only 
one important set of stories centres around the 
Dead Sea, — the tales of Lot; and they have been 
preserved not so much because of the sea as be- 
cause of the volcano which overwhelmed the ill- 
famed towns. The future holds nothing in store 
for the sea better than the past. The hot, un- 
healthy coasts may in time be visited for their 
scenery, or for their associations, but the sea is 
dead, and out of it no life can come. 



CHAPTER X 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 



The regions east and southeast of the Dead 
Sea, that is, Moab and Edom, are so much less 
important than those to the west that we shall 
discuss them with comparative brevity. Their 
history is full of storm and stress by reason of 
their openness to the desert. Here the Moabites 
and Ammonites struggled at the time when the 
Israelites were streaming in across the country 
from the east. Then, so far as we can gather from 
the ancient records, the Moabites settled into 
a peaceful agricultural people until the days of 
Mesha, the author of the famous Moabite Stone. 
During the succeeding century the Moabites for 
some reason betook themselves to plundering, 
and were a scourge to Israel, Judea, and Edom. 
Next we find them once more a peaceful, agri- 
cultural race. The Nabateans followed them, 
coming up from the south. Then the Romans 
occupied the land and built magnificent cities, 
wherein the temples of the gods at length gave 
place to Christian churches. The Moslems over- 
turned the past civilization even more completely 
than in other parts of the world. The Crusaders 
founded a kingdom, and Renaud of Chatillon 



200 PALESTINE 



ruled with a hand of iron from his great castle on 
the hill of Kerak. His misdeeds were among the 
chief causes of the destruction of the Crusaders' 
power. After the great battle of the Horns of 
Hattin, near the Sea of Galilee, the conqueror, 
Saladin, offered him his life if he would become 
a Moslem, but he would not yield. While they 
talked in Saladin's tent, iced sherbet was ordered 
for King Guy, another prisoner. The king, know- 
ing that a Moslem host feels bound to protect all 
to whom he has given food, handed the cup to Re- 
naud. "Thou hast given him to drink, not I," 
said Saladin, and so pronounced the doom of the 
Christian whom Islam feared as its fiercest foe. 
So Moab passed once more to the Moslems. 
With them it has remained for over six centu- 
ries, but not in peace. A land so open to the desert 
cannot have peace. 

Inasmuch as Moab is a plateau, one might infer 
that it would be as difficult to traverse as Judea. 
So it is on the western border where a magnificent 
fault scarp breaks off to the Dead Sea. The 
gorges, however, whose mouths we saw from the 
sea, soon come to an end. Moab slopes east- 
ward very gently. Hence, on that side there are 
no deep valleys, and the approach from the desert 
is easy. Our journey in Moab and Edom, on our 
way to the famous rock-city of Petra, may serve 
to illustrate the character of the country. First 
we must see its relation to the Ghor, and then its 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 1 201 



character as a plateau. We shall see that the 
effect of the gentle slope to the eastward is to 
divide the country into strips along one of which 
runs the great Way of the Pilgrimage and the 
Hejaz Railway. And we shall find how great a 
part has been played by the openness of the 
land to the desert, the abundance of ruins, and 
the change which has taken place here as else- 
where. 

Starting from Jerusalem, whence most jour- 
neys in Palestine begin, we spent the night at the 
bridge over the Jordan. The next day we left 
the deeply sunken Jordan Valley, with its strange 
sub-tropical vegetation of prickly jujube trees 
and thick-leaved "oshr" shrubs, whose yellow, 
branching stems suggested huge milkweeds bear- 
ing yellow "apples of Sodom." For four tiresome 
hours the way led steeply upward over a sun- 
baked slope of white limestone. The horses' feet 
clattered over what was once a Roman road, but 
is now a mass of loose fragments. We were climb- 
ing the steep escarpment on the west side of 
Moab. Above us lay the plateau, whose level, 
dark blue line forms so prominent a feature in 
the eastward view from all the higher hills of 
Judea. 

The Mountains of the Abarim, or Opposite 
Side, is the expressive name by which the old 
Jews called the escarpment. Then, as now, the 
land to the east of the depression of the Ghor be- 



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yond the Dead Sea and the Jordan Valley was a 
country apart and separate, cut off from Judea 
by a great trough whose hot slopes are hard to 
climb and whose lower portions are the haunt 
of robbers. Because of this the countries beyond 
the Ghor, especially Moab and Edom on the 
farther side of the Dead Sea, are even now re- 
mote regions where one may wander for weeks 
without fear of meeting the all-pervasive tourists 
who swarm around Jerusalem. 

Toward the top of the ascent of the Opposite 
Side the slopes become gentle and begin to be 
clothed with genuine green grass instead of with 
the poor weeds which grow lower down. As the 
way became less steep and rocky, we hurried on- 
ward with eager desire to see what lies beyond, 
and toward sunset reached a small rounded emi- 
nence near Mount Nebo and almost four thousand 
feet above the Dead Sea. Cool breezes revived 
both horses and men after the hot day's ride from 
the bridge over the muddy, jungle-bordered Jor- 
dan near Jericho. A quickening sense of space and 
freedom invigorated us, as the view suddenly ex- 
panded to the limits of a level horizon. The sight 
of the spring verdure which clothed the country to 
the eastward that day in April was so delightful 
that we almost forgot to take a backward look to 
the west at the parched brown hills of the Judean 
slope and the deep hollow of the Ghor. We had 
come to a land very different from the rounded 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 203 



rocky hills of the plateau of Judea, a land richer 
and more beautiful, but far less varied and in- 
spiring. Looking eastward, we realized that we 
had not been climbing mountains, but had been 
coming up the steep side of a plateau composed 
of layers of limestone dipping almost impercepti- 
bly eastward. Far as the eye could reach, a glo- 
rious succession of gently sloping hills rose and 
fell and rolled softly away to a well-nigh limitless 
horizon, each one a hill when looked at alone, but 
all together giving the effect of a plain with a 
slight slope to the east. Each swelling hill and 
smoothly falling vale was green and fresh with 
grain or rich brown with newly ploughed fields; 
so at least it seemed at first, but as we looked 
into the purple distance illumined by the level 
rays of the setting sun, brown hills began to take 
shape, and we saw that the green region extended 
only about fifteen miles. 

Moab consists of four narrow strips running 
north and south parallel to the Ghor. Already 
we had traversed one of them, that is, the steep 
westward-facing escarpment. It presents an un- 
broken line of rugged cliffs extending southward 
for a hundred and twenty miles, from a point a 
little north of the Dead Sea along the whole of 
both Moab and Edom to the desert regions be- 
yond Petra. Now we were looking across the 
second, — a narrow strip of invariably fertile land 
scarcely ten miles wide. The third, a similar strip 



204 



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of land that is fruitful in years of good rainfall, 
but barren at other times, was in plain sight to 
the east. Beyond it we dimly saw the fourth strip, 
a broader band of pasture-land which bears grass 
in winter and early spring, but soon dries up com- 
pletely. Each strip has its own peculiar people. 
The rugged escarpment is almost uninhabitable, 
but is occasionally frequented by the negroid 
Arabs of the unhealthy Ghor, who drive their 
flocks up among its cliffs for pasture. The fertile 
crest of the plateau bears a line of villages in- 
habited by Syrian farmers, or Fellahin, the de- 
scendants of Arabs who came in from the desert 
long ago. The next strip is a debatable land whose 
most interesting features are, in the first place, 
a long line of ruined towns indicating a decrease 
in fertility, and, second, the new Hejaz Railway 
to Mecca. Finally the fourth strip, the broad 
pasture land between the ruins and the sandy 
Arabian desert far to the east, is the haunt of 
wandering Beduin, who remain in their own 
region when propitious rains cause the grass to 
grow, but swarm into the other strips in dry sea- 
sons like that of 1909. 

The towns and villages of the fertile strip of 
Moab are few and widely separated. Two or 
three miles from the edge of the escarpment we 
came to one of them, Madeba, composed of some 
three hundred flat-roofed houses of stone and 
mud set on a hill. On all sides waving wheat- 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 205 



fields encroach upon the ruins of what was once 
a fine provincial city, the seat of a bishopric in 
the early Christian centuries. On the edge of the 
town a new Greek church rises square and ugly. 
It is no more beautiful than a New England barn, 
but is intensely interesting because of what it 
conceals. A dozen years ago the Syrians of the 
place, having moved thither not many years be- 
fore from Kerak, or Kir of Moab, two days' jour- 
ney farther south, decided that they needed a 
new church. As they dug to lay the foundations 
on the site of an ancient edifice, they came upon 
bits of a fine mosaic. With the incredible stupid- 
ity of orientals they drove their pickaxes into it, 
thinking that perhaps stores of gold and silver 
might be concealed underneath. Fortunately 
word of the find came to Said Effendi, our wheat- 
raising host at Beersheba, who was then a subor- 
dinate official at Madeba. He saw that the mosaic 
was unusual, but more than that he could not 
make out. He succeeded, however, in persuading 
the builders of the church to leave what remained 
until word could be sent to the government at 
Jerusalem and a foreigner skilled in antiquities 
could look at it. 

To say that the mosaic is the oldest map in 
existence gives no idea of the enthusiasm which 
it excites. When the young acolyte who was in 
charge during the priest's absence grudgingly 
lifted the heavy planks from off the mosaic and 



206 



PALESTINE 



swept up the dust of the past year, the map did 
not seem of special interest. As he cleaned it with 
a wet rag, however, and the clear red, yellow, 
blue, black, and white squares of stone began to 
form themselves into tangible shapes, I found 
myself watching the process with a warm thrill 
of interest and almost excitement. It seemed like 
profanation to walk about over the precious map 
in hobnailed boots. So I sat on the floor and crept 
about, reading the Greek names and picking out 
the Jordan River with its bridges and fish, and 
the Dead Sea with its boats, in which can be seen 
the legs of oarsmen whose bodies and heads were 
long ago replaced by meaningless squares which 
do not offend the Moslem conquerors by repre- 
senting living creatures. The lion and other beasts 
which inhabit the Jordan Valley have been treated 
likewise. They are chiefly legs and tail, but an 
antelope has been left intact, as have the palm 
trees which fill the blank spaces of the hot valley. 
Elsewhere colonnaded cities and cathedrals are 
scattered thickly over Palestine and the neigh- 
boring countries as far as the strangely curved 
mouths of the Nile. They were surprisingly nu- 
merous in the days when the map was made, four 
or five centuries after Christ. The people who 
could construct such a map, so beautiful and in 
its way so accurate, must have differed greatly 
from their degenerate successors. The contrast 
between the past and the present is well typified 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 207 



on the one hand by the patient, loving skill which 
must have gone into the construction of the map, 
and on the other, by the callous ignorance of those 
who were about to destroy it in the hope of find- 
ing treasure or for the sake of building an ugly 
barn for the performance of religious rites which 
they do not understand. The cause of the con- 
trast is one of the world's great problems. Ma- 
deba and the surrounding regions of Moab may 
not rank high in their contribution to history, 
but they are of great importance because they 
suggest a remarkably close connection between 
physical changes and moral and intellectual revo- 
lutions. 

As we rode eastward from Madeba we were 
amazed to see how mile by mile the country grows 
drier. At first deep fields of waving wheat were 
studded with large blue irises and vocal with 
larks. Soon all the fields were withered and gray- 
ish green, the irises were of another species, dainty 
brown, and the exultant larks no longer sang by 
the score upon the ground as well as in the air. 
Then the fields became so dry that it was hard to 
tell whether they had been planted that year or 
not. The people said that the crop had been sown, 
but had merely sprouted and then dried up be- 
cause of the unusual drought during February 
and March. Twenty miles east of the edge of the 
escarpment the only hint of vegetation was brown 
patches of diminutive grass an inch high which 



208 



PALESTINE 



had grown here and there during the winter. 
Yet looking back to the west we could see the 
fairest of green-clad slopes; treeless, to be sure, 
but rich and attractive. Here, as in the rest of 
Palestine, the west wind from the Mediterranean 
Sea brings practically all the rain. During the 
rainy season from October to April the air, after 
rising to the Judean plateau, and descending into 
the deep Ghor, rises once more at the escarpment 
of Moab, and waters the edge of the plateau, but 
by this time the air contains no great amount of 
water, and the gentle eastward slope of the pla- 
teau furnishes a descent sufficient to cause the 
wind quickly to become warm and dry. 

In this fact, and in the openness of the coun- 
try desertward, lies the explanation of much of 
the difference between the significant history of 
Judea and the unimportant history of the regions 
east of the Dead Sea. 

One of the most interesting features of the 
drier eastern parts of Moab and Edom is the 
great pilgrim route from Damascus to Mecca. 
Mohammedanism is preeminently the religion 
of the desert. It almost seems as if the first pil- 
grims located the road in the driest possible place 
in order to impress upon their successors the rig- 
ors of the desert. As a matter of fact they fol- 
lowed the easiest route, just on the border where 
supplies could be obtained from the cultivated 
land on the west, and the caravan animals could 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 209 



find grazing in the untilled grasslands to the east. 
To-day the desert has encroached upon the sown. 
The road in most of its course through Moab and 
Edom lies beyond the limits where cultivation 
is possible. We crossed the road on our way to 
one of the many outlying ruins which proclaim 
the change during the last thirteen or fourteen 
centuries. The Ghazanide palace of Meshita, as 
the ruin is called, was built by Persian invaders in 
the sixth century. It has now been despoiled, first 
in order to make a present of the facade to the 
German Emperor, and then to obtain stone for 
the bridges of the new Hejaz Railway to Mecca. 
A little west of the palace the smooth, brown plain 
is furrowed with trail after trail, the hundred 
tracks of the old pilgrimage road along which 
for twelve centuries weary caravans have toiled 
patiently through the desert. Only a few of the 
many interlacing paths show signs of recent use, 
for the caravans have decreased in size during 
the last century. As we crossed the hundred- 
trailed "Derb el Haj" on our way back to the 
habitations of Moab, a sound of distant whistles 
came through the sunset air, the tooting of an 
engine on the new "Way of the Pilgrimage," the 
easy iron way which has succeeded the painful 
route where, in the portion south of Edom, camels 
used to die of thirst, and footsore pilgrims some- 
times went mad from utter weariness. In 1908 
the great Mecca caravan passed down the old 



210 



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historic road for the last time: henceforth all the 
pilgrims will go by rail. It is no light thing when 
an institution like the Haj caravan passes out 
of existence. For centuries it was the greatest of 
unifying forces in the Moslem world: more, per- 
haps, than anything else it tended to draw the 
Mohammedans of all races together and to pro- 
mote the democratic and fraternal spirit which 
is so much more marked among the various Mo- 
hammedan nations than among Christians. Sul- 
tan Abdul-Hamid II, in his zeal for Islam, be- 
lieved that he had done a great thing for the faith 
in making the pilgrimage to Mecca easy. It is 
probable that he has done the reverse, for the 
one -tracked road of steel puts an end to the 
months of hardship which in the old days unified 
the Faithful who wearily plodded along the hun- 
dred-tracked road of earth and stones. 

Moab, and likewise Edom, is full of ruins. Three 
ruins for one modern village is a very moderate 
estimate. The places which now are villages once 
were cities. Travellers often tell us that the scan- 
tiness of the present population and the aban- 
donment of ancient sites are due to misgo vernment 
and Arab raids. This is only a half truth. In the 
cases where it is true, the physical incapacity 
of the country is often at the root of the mis- 
government and raids. In many cases, however, 
the country simply cannot support an agricul- 
tural population because of lack of rain. For 




SHEPHERDS ON THE BORDERS OF GILEAD 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 211 



example, at the ruins of Ziza we discovered a 
bilingual inscription in Nabatean which identifies 
the place as the Baal-peor of the Bible. It must 
once have been an important town. After the 
construction of the railroad about sixty families 
settled here in 1907, coming from Es Salt, He- 
bron, Nablus, and other places. The government 
brought them, or at least assisted them. The 
year 1908 was the first in which they raised crops. 
The yield was good, being ten or twelve fold. In 
1909, however, most of the fields failed utterly. 
The man who reaped as much as he sowed was 
fortunate. Under such conditions the inhabitants 
must of necessity move away. Two or three such 
years in succession, as occurred in the early seven- 
ties, would completely depopulate the place. A 
few miles away at Kastal, which lies a little higher 
than Ziza, we found conditions only a trifle bet- 
ter. Some forty or more families came there 
about 1905 from Jerusalem, Hebron, and else- 
where, and took up their abode in the ruins of 
what was once a large, prosperous town. Like 
Naomi and her family, they had come from Judea 
in a time of stress, but life had proved harder in 
the new home than in the old. Now, hearing 
that there was bread in the home of their fathers, 
they were planning to leave their cropless fields 
and go back, even as Naomi went with Ruth from 
some unknown village perchance not far away. 
It would be a mistake to underestimate the 



W PALESTINE 

importance of Arab raids, as well as of scanty 
rainfall, in depopulating the country. They have 
always occurred and still occur. After spending 
the night at Ziza, my guide and I left the main 
caravan, but meant to rejoin it and pass the next 
night at Diban, the ruined town where Mesha, the 
Moabite king, set up the famous Moabite Stone 
after his war with the kings of Israel, Judah, and 
Edom, nine hundred years before Christ. An hour 
after sunset, however, Diban was still far distant, 
and we were wandering without a path. Hearing 
the barking of dogs, we rode toward the sound and 
soon saw the fires of one of the many encamp- 
ments of Arabs who had been driven in from the 
desert by the drought. On one side of an open 
square a large fire was blazing, at the man's end 
of the most spacious of the low black tents. The 
intermittent blaze, fed by dry weeds of the desert, 
lighted up a slab of limestone bearing the rudely 
scratched insignia of the tribe of Beni Sakr. We 
dismounted silently, as men do in a land where no 
one knows whether those whom he meets are ene- 
mies or friends. The Arabs, grouped cross-legged 
or a-squat around the blaze, said nothing, but the 
chief men rose and motioned us to be seated, while 
the others moved to places of less honor. A quilt 
was brought to spread on the coarse woollen rugs, 
and another was rolled up for me to rest my left 
elbow upon. It was only after we were comfort- 
able that conversation slowly began. While we 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 213 



talked, a servant brought out the coffee-tongs, — 
two spoons of iron chained together and having 
handles eighteen inches long. Green coffee beans 
were placed on the larger spoon, which was about 
six inches in diameter, and were held over the fire 
to roast. The other spoon, only an inch in diame- 
ter, was used to stir the beans and prevent burning. 
When the coffee was roasted the slow process of 
grinding began. The grinder evidently felt that 
his work was of great importance and should be 
done artistically. Each stroke of the great wooden 
pestle was accompanied by a double click on the 
side of the deep wooden mortar. Then the coffee 
was boiled, first in one blackened copper pot with 
a long straight handle, and then in another. Fi- 
nally the grinder tasted it. Then the cups, two in 
number, began to circulate. Each man was served 
with only two or three swallows of the strong 
black fluid, but the cups were passed to the chief 
men several times. After an hour or two dinner 
was brought in, a tender boiled lamb, which we 
pulled to pieces with our fingers. Thin sheets of 
unleavened bread were provided, not only to be 
eaten, but to serve as scoops for sour milk or soft 
butter, and with these a dish of cracked wheat 
boiled soft and eaten with the hands, 
f Conversation was limited, as the guide, although 
proficient in Arabic, knew very little of Turkish, 
the language in which he talked to me. One old 
Arab seemed much worried about my pith helmet. 



214 



PALESTINE 



He did not like the cut of it, especially the way in 
which it failed to protect the ears. He could not 
see how it was possible to sleep in such an outra- 
geous thing. It did not occur to him that any 
one would take off his headgear in the cool night. 
The gestures which he and the others used were 
extraordinary. The sheikh tried to make me 
understand how he and his people fought with the 
government not many years ago. His eyes were 
so fierce and his gestures so violent that I began 
to think he was really getting angry. With all his 
soul he hated, so he said, the uniform of my guide, 
a soldier, but the man himself was good apart 
from that which his clothes implied. " Why does 
the government take taxes from poor Arabs who 
come from the desert in times of drought?" he 
asked. " Have not the Arabs the right to feed their 
flocks wherever there is grass? Some day soon 
the soldiers will see what my people will do." 

After the sheikh had calmed down he thought- 
fully threw a cloak over my shoulders, for the 
night was chilly, with a temperature of only about 
forty degrees. Then when we went to bed he took 
great pains to see that I was warmly covered, es- 
pecially my head, and finally left the guide and 
myself and two other guests lying on the ground 
around the ashes of the coffee fire, with saddles for 
pillows. With the dying of the fire the beauty of 
the moonlit night came over us. The occasional 
faint bleat of a young lamb or the suppressed bark 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 215 

of a dog only emphasized the stillness. We grew 
drowsy and fell asleep on our hard beds as the em- 
bers ceased to glow. Suddenly the sound of guns 
made us sit up wide awake. The dogs began to 
bark wildly, men shouted, and the shrill cry of 
women arose. The camp jumped to its feet in a 
moment; the men flung their striped white and 
brown abbas of wool over their shoulders, slipped 
their feet into their low shoes, if they had any, 
and with guns in hand hastened to mount the 
horses and camels tethered near the tents. Be- 
fore I could put on the clumsy shoes which civ- 
ilization imposes upon us, they had ridden off to 
the southeast, followed by the women on foot. In 
a few minutes the bright moonlight showed the 
women, with queenly gait and haggish faces, 
streaming back down the hillside in their trailing 
garments of dark blue. Immediately the camp 
fell once more into quiet. Nothing unusual had 
taken place; it was merely a "ghazzu," or raid. 
The Howeitat Arabs, enemies of the tribe of Beni 
Sakr, had come in from the desert to the better- 
watered region, and had driven off a flock of a 
hundred or more camels which had been herded 
for the night at a little distance from the camp. 
The Arab lives in constant expectation of such 
occurrences. When the two gray -bearded men 
who were our fellow guests were awakened by the 
guns, they merely sat up, realized what had hap- 
pened, and lay down once more to sleep. It was 



216 



PALESTINE 



nothing to them if other people's camels were 
stolen. Perhaps it would be their own turn to- 
morrow, and then they would exert themselves. 
In the chill damp morning they and we, with- 
out washing or eating or speaking to any one 
belonging to the camp, took our horses and rode 
away, for our hosts were gone, and the women 
have naught to do with guests. 

A little south of the southern end of the Dead 
Sea, the province of Moab merges into that of 
Edom. In most respects the two are similar. 
Edom, however, is higher and more mountainous 
than Moab. Its western part, overlooking the 
Ghor, is extremely rugged. Because of the greater 
altitude and deeper valleys, perennial springs are 
found in a few places. They serve to irrigate such 
villages as Tafileh, Buseir, Elchi near Petra, and 
Maon far to the southeast. Desertward Edom is 
open, just as is Moab. Westward it is sharply sep- 
arated from the Ghor by the steep escarpment 
which we descended on our way from Tafileh to 
the Negeb. Nevertheless, the part of the Ghor 
south of the Dead Sea belongs to Edom rather 
than to any of the other provinces of Palestine. 

The most important section of Edom is Petra. 
I shall devote the rest of this chapter to a descrip- 
tion of that place and of our ride thither from 
Kerak, the chief town of Moab. In a cold rain 
and mist on the 8th of April we left Moab, going 
westward down the Wadi Kerak, one of the fine 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 217 



canyons cut by streams which flow through the 
western escarpment. Leaving the few olive and 
fig trees of Kerak we descended rapidly into 
warmer and drier regions; and by mid-afternoon 
had gone down four thousand six hundred feet to 
the tents of the Arabs of Ghor-i-Mezara, the dark- 
skinned, thick-lipped people who inhabit the tor- 
rid Ghor on the east side of the Dead Sea at its 
southern end. In the tent of the sheikh we re- 
ceived a half-hearted welcome quite unlike that 
of the true Arabs. These people are surprisingly 
negroid. The torrid heat of the Ghor seems to 
have caused a process of natural selection. Indi- 
viduals with thick lips, curly hair, broad noses, 
and dark skins are apparently better fitted for life 
in the fierce perpetual heat than are those of the 
ordinary Arab type. 

The people of the plateau of Moab have so lit- 
tle communication with the depression of the 
Ghor far below them to the west that at Kerak we 
found it impossible to get a guide who knew any- 
thing of the country south of the Dead Sea, and 
there was even difficulty in getting one who knew 
the way to Mezara, only fifteen miles away, at 
the foot of the escarpment. At Mezara we fortu- 
nately found an Arab who had come up from the 
south and wanted to go back. For half a day he led 
us along the shore of the sea, sometimes among 
thick vegetation, including splendid branching 
reeds twenty feet high, and sometimes over bar- 



218 PALESTINE 



ren wastes of boulders. Then at the southern 
end of the sea, where two large wadis pour out 
their water at the foot of the escarpment, we 
rode among green wheat-fields artistically studded 
with thorny bushes. In the absence of anything 
larger, the bushes gave the effect of an English 
park full of trees, but when a man appeared, it 
became evident that either he was a giant or the 
trees were mere dwarfs. It rained at intervals, 
to the great joy of all the country, for the long 
drought was broken at last, and the danger of se- 
vere famine was averted from the more prosper- 
ous districts, although suffering must ensue be- 
cause already so many crops were injured. The 
rain was warm in the Ghor, but on the plateau 
hail fell and covered the country like snow. 

South of the Dead Sea our guide led us through 
the dry wastes of the broad Arab ah. Climbing a 
long slope of sand mantling an old lake bluff three 
or four hundred feet high, we came out upon a 
smooth plain of gravel, more sterile than people 
who have never seen a desert can well realize. 
When the gravel came to an end we plodded 
through drifts of wind-blown sand shading beau- 
tifully from straw-color to pink, and disposed in 
drifts of most graceful form. At our left lay the 
steep slopes of the escarpment of Moab and 
Edom, where spurs of black were backed by those 
of red, and these in turn by those of white and 
buff. Far up on the heights of Edom, trees dark- 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 219 



ened the upper crags, although all the lower cliffs 
were utterly barren. Once we came to a place 
where the water of the Wadi Fedan makes the 
desert literally blossom as the rose, for the banks 
of the brook, even beyond its dwindling terminus 
in the gravel, are lined not only with reeds and 
tamarisks, but with pink oleanders in full bloom 
at the time of our visit. Toward nightfall we 
were in the desert once more, in a plain of soft silt 
and sand dotted with small green bushes. Once 
the guide looked back and thought that on a crag 
of granite he saw five men; and we looked to our 
guns, thinking of robbers. At sunset the guide 
rode anxiously from sand-hill to sand-hill, look- 
ing for the insignificant marks by which his prac- 
tised eye made out the location of the spring. 
The desert is almost the same the world over. 
Save for the costumes of the men, we might have 
been riding in western China far to the east, or 
in Arizona, still farther to the west. 

That such a desert was once the scene of active 
traffic, seems incredible. Yet the next day, as we 
left our desert spring of dark sulphurous water 
and rode south over vast wastes of rough gravel 
and boulders, we were following the track of thou- 
sands of ancient caravans. When we turned to the 
southeast up a splendid gorge of red granite, we 
followed the traces of the Roman road which once 
ran from Gaza across the desert regions south of 
Palestine to Petra, the city of stone, and then on 



220 



PALESTINE 



to the Gulf of Akaba on the one hand and the Per- 
sian Gulf on the other. The road is entirely de- 
stroyed except in a few level places, and the long 
steep climb to a height of twenty-five hundred 
feet above the Mediterranean Sea must be made 
over an almost invisible trail composed of angu- 
lar granite fragments. 

Above the granite a rough terrace half a mile 
wide has been formed by the wearing back of a 
deep red sandstone capped with white sandstone. 
Here the elevation and the western exposure com- 
bine to cause more rainfall than elsewhere. Ac- 
cordingly cedar trees are numerous, and give a 
pleasing aspect of verdure to the otherwise desert 
landscape. As a winter view in a fertile land is 
like a face asleep instead of awake, so a verdure- 
less scene in the desert is like a body without life, 
— beautiful perhaps, but depressing. 

The geological structure of the plateau of 
Edom is practically identical with that of south- 
ern Utah north of the Grand Canyon of the Colo- 
rado. Both countries are now deserts, and in both 
the square-shouldered, straight-sided cliffs of dark 
red and the domes of white sandstone indicate 
that deserts prevailed ten or fifteen million years 
ago in the Jura-Trias period. Both regions have 
been uplifted in the same way; and as a result 
the two distant parts of the world closely resemble 
each other, not only in scenery, but in the general 
mode of life of the people. 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 221 



Toward night we came to higher valleys three 
thousand feet above the sea, and there we began 
to find ancient canals and walls of fields, although 
now there is no water for irrigation. Then we 
reached the caves of El Beida, — cisterns, houses, 
temples, and tombs hewn in the solid white sand- 
stone. A long narrow slit in the rock leads into 
shady green depths where the sunshine never 
comes, and where the foot treads upon that rarest 
of treasures in this dry land, — a carpet of soft 
green turf. On either side pure white cliffs tower 
almost perpendicular for a hundred feet or more, 
and then break away a little and at much greater 
heights form innumerable domes whose white tops 
suggest drifted snow. Of these, however, one gets 
no hint from below, for only the precipices and the 
numerous caves and tombs are in sight. Some of 
the caves are cisterns into which rain water was 
once cleverly led by means of narrow flights of 
steps which served as troughs. Several of the 
tombs are carved into the form of graceful Roman 
temples with pillars, arches, and pediments, while 
others similate Nabatean houses with stepped 
roofs. 

From El Beida we proceeded to the metropolis 
of Petra, the far-famed and oft-described city of 
stone, whose tombs are temples cut in solid rock. 
There we camped in the "Treasury of Pharaoh," 
which is in reality a temple of Isis cut in the side 
of a narrow gorge like that already described at 



PALESTINE 



El Beida, except that the sandstone is red and 
weathers into fine square masses instead of being 
white and forming graceful domes, and the floor 
is covered with pebbles instead of with soft green 
grass. From the door one looks out at the Sik. 
It suggests a great crack, opening to a width of 
twenty to a hundred feet at the bottom and 
widening somewhat upward, but in reality it is 
the work of a stream, which has carved a valley 
with great rapidity on account of the uplift of 
the plateau. 

It is hard to realize how greatly Petra has 
changed. To-day its ruins lie in a desolate valley 
whose only inhabitants are Beduin who camp with 
their sheep among the fallen temples for a few 
weeks each year. At the time of our visit in April, 
in spite of the rains of the last three days, water 
could be obtained only by going half a mile or 
more either above or below the ruins. Even the 
small village of Elchi, higher up the valley, was 
suffering for lack of water to irrigate part of the 
fields upon which the villagers depend for food. 
Yet in the past there was water enough not only 
for Elchi and its dry fields, and for other fields or 
orchards whose walls appear on every side of Petra, 
but for the city itself, which must have had at 
least twenty or thirty thousand inhabitants, and 
possibly more. It is almost past believing that 
such a city could exist in so dry a situation. The 
inhabitants were not poor like those of modern 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 223 



Kerak and Elchi. They were among the really 
opulent people of their day. Nor were they crude 
and uncivilized. Their city was filled with the 
finest products of the artists of the time. 
. As one wanders among the ruins and looks at 
the theatre of red sandstone, the columns of ruined 
temples, and the hundreds of tombs, some of which 
have grand fagades like temples fifty and sixty 
feet high, the wonder of Petra grows. Not beauty 
of architecture or delicacy of design appeals to one 
here, as in the Taj Mahal or other famous edifices; 
not simple grandeur as in the Pyramids and the 
Sphinx; not pure beauty of scenery as in the Alps: 
in any single respect other places go far ahead of 
Petra, and even in its own special type of wild 
desert scenery southern Utah much excels it. No 
place, however, affords a more striking combina- 
tion of architectural skill, vastness of design, and 
grandeur of scenery, and with it all full measure 
of the fascinating element of romance which en- 
shrouds the site of vanished civilization. 

A peculiar interest attaches to the beginnings 
of great matters ; and this it is in part which makes 
one feel that in all the region beyond the Dead 
Sea no sites are more important than the ruins of 
the old Semitic "High Places" on the tops of the 
crags five hundred feet above the town and the 
main tombs at Petra. To reach them one must 
climb long flights of weather-worn steps hewn in 
the solid rock; and sometimes it is necessary to 



224 



PALESTINE 



scramble on hands and knees where the old ap- 
proaches have been destroyed. At the top the 
ruins of the castles built by the Crusaders first 
catch the eye, but one passes them with little more 
than a thought. Nor does one dwell upon the 
traces of Roman domination in the early Christian 
centuries before the Mohammedan conquest; and 
even the vestiges left by Nabateans of the time 
of Christ are of little interest compared with the 
more ancient High Places. The Nabateans were 
doubtless the last to worship on the sacred hill- 
tops, but sacrifices to unknown Semitic gods 
were probably offered there thousands of years 
before their day. The old Semites were simple in 
their art; indeed, they scarcely can be said to have 
had any art in building their places of sacrifice. 
A platform hewn in the solid rock on a hilltop, 
and a high altar with a few steps and some troughs 
cut in the living rock, — that was all they needed. 
Sometimes, in their zeal, they hewed all the stone 
from the brow of a hill, cutting away the rock to 
a depth of twenty feet over an area a hundred feet 
in diameter, and leaving only one or two symbolic 
obelisks of living rock rising as sacred symbols in 
the midst of a place of prayer. One thing more 
they craved for in those old Semitic days, — the 
thing for which they most deserve our praise, — a 
broad view earthward, heavenward, with nothing 
between themselves and the greatness of God. If 
ever a man feels worshipful, it is on the top of a 



BEYOND THE DEAD SEA 225 



lonely mountain. When the priests at Petra took 
the offerings up to the great High Place on the 
highest point of a craggy summit, higher even 
than the place of prayer surrounding the obelisks, 
something of reverence must have come over even 
the most worldly among them. Worship in places 
like this must surely have played some important 
part in the development of high religious ideals 
among the early Semites, to whom the half of 
mankind is indebted for its faith. 



CHAPTER XI 



THE LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 



Gilead and Bashan stand for ideals almost as 
diverse as those of Judea and Samaria. Strangely 
enough the physical conditions in the two sets 
of provinces are reversed. Gilead, whose history 
has been characterized by seclusion, and Samaria, 
where lack of seclusion has been the dominant 
note, both possess the Appalachian type of folded 
geological structure. Sterile, exclusive Judea and 
the rich open grain lands of Bashan are both pla- 
teaus of horizontal limestone. Such a reversal of 
the conditions naturally expected may seem to in- 
dicate that, after all, the influence of the form of 
the land upon history is not so potent as we have 
inferred. Yet this is far from the case, as we shall 
shortly see. Bashan is used in the Bible as an 
example of wealth and accessibility because, al- 
though a plateau, it is not dissected. Moreover, it 
is not bounded by protecting bulwarks, as is Judea. 
On the contrary its outlying portions, such as the 
mountains of Jebel Druze and the volcanic Leja, 
that odd little patch of fine cellular lines in the 
northeast corner of most maps of Palestine, 
have always proved a menace to the fertile plains. 
In like manner Gilead stands for seclusion and for 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 227 



a healthful land of balm because, although of the 
same folded structure as Samaria, its mountains 
are relatively high and inaccessible, not so open 
and easily traversed as those of its neighbor 
across the Ghor. 

If the whole course of history be considered, 
Gilead has been more Jewish than any region ex- 
cept Judea. In the early days of the Israelite oc- 
cupation of Palestine, Jephthah and his Gileadites 
were the bulwark which prevented the Ammon- 
ites from over-running the land. So strongly did 
this event impress itself upon the Hebrews that 
the whole nation for centuries observed a day of 
mourning for the daughter who fell a victim to 
the warrior's rash vow. At a later date Ishbo- 
sheth, the son of the defeated Saul, fled to Gilead 
for refuge, and the mountaineers rallied to his sup- 
port against David. When Absalom rebelled and 
sought to dethrone his father, it was David's turn 
to flee to Gilead. Thither the guilty son followed 
the old king, and met an ignominious death for 
lack of the craft which enables a man to take care 
of himself in the forest. The Gileadites, like all 
mountaineers, were a conservative people, not 
readily given to changing their ideas or their alle- 
giance. In Christ's day they still were as Jewish 
as the Ju deans. Hence, in going up to Jerusalem, 
the Galilean Jews commonly crossed the Jordan a 
little below the Sea of Galilee, and went down the 
east side of the river, thus avoiding the despised 



228 



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Samaritans. The events of one such journey on 
the part of Christ are recorded. In Perea, as 
Gilead was called in New Testament times, the 
Pharisees strove to entangle him by questions as 
to marriage and divorce, using the same tactics as 
their Judean brethren. There, too, occurred that 
sweetest of Bible stories, the blessing of the chil- 
dren. Not by accident did it take place in Gilead; 
but because the form of the land enabled a simple 
mountain folk of the Hebrew race to preserve 
their Jewish character. 

In all our study of Palestine we have found our- 
selves ever turning toward Jerusalem. Let us 
start from there once more and proceed to Gilead 
and Bashan, thus putting those provinces in their 
proper relation to the central plateau. The dis- 
tance from Jerusalem to Jebel Druze and the Leja 
on the far side of Bashan is only a hundred miles 
in a straight line, scarcely farther than from New 
York to Philadelphia. Yet in that short space the 
diversity of physical types is almost as great as in 
a distance of two or three thousand miles in the 
United States. Close to one another lie five dis- 
tinct regions almost as diverse as the Allegheny 
plateau of western Pennsylvania, the hot valleys 
of southern Arizona, the anthracite coal region of 
eastern Pennsylvania, the prairies of Illinois, and 
the volcanic mountains of Idaho. 

Leaving Jerusalem early in May on the way 
through Gilead and Bashan to Damascus and Pal- 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 229 



myra, we traversed first the Judean plateau, high, 
breezy, barren, yet strangely attractive in spite of 
its treeless rocky hills, and stony terraced valleys. 
At a distance of a few miles from the plateau, in 
space, but half a continent in character, we crossed 
the superheated Jordan Valley, an infernal trench, 
whose parched bottom, muddy river, and copses 
of jungle infested with insects awaken chiefly the 
ardent desire to have done with the place. On 
May 9 the temperature at the ferry of Ed Damieh, 
twenty-four miles north of the Dead Sea and one 
hundred and fifty feet above it, was one hundred 
and five degrees at noon, and over one hundred 
till after four o'clock. So heated did we become 
that, after a climb of over four thousand feet, we 
actually felt chilly when we experienced a tem- 
perature of sixty-eight degrees toward sunset 
near Es Salt in Gilead. Beyond Jordan a fairer 
region is found. An elevation of three or four 
thousand feet above the sea suffices to render 
Gilead comparatively cool, and so moist as to 
support thin forests of oak. Gilead remains green 
and lovely far into the summer. Thus, more than 
any other part of Palestine, it resembles the fer- 
tile regions of western Europe and the eastern 
United States, especially eastern Pennsylvania, 
whose parallel ridges, flat topped and wooded, are 
of the same geological structure. In quiet home- 
like beauty Gilead far surpasses Judea, but it lacks 
the inspiring sense of openness and space, and the 



230 



PALESTINE 



frequent glimpses of the distant blue sea in the 
west, and of the purple plateaus in the east, which 
morning by morning and evening by evening give 
an ever-recurring charm to the sterile uplands 
around Jerusalem. North of Gilead one comes to 
the plain of Hauran, — Bashan, the land of Og, 
— a treeless expanse of waving wheat, flat as the 
prairie. Its fat, dark-red soil yields marvellous 
crops, but the scenery is deadeningly monoto- 
nous. The squalid villages of black lava, unre- 
lieved by verdure, are as depressing a sight as 
one meets in many a year of travel. The plain of 
Hauran does not comprise the whole of Bashan. 
To the east rises another district, — the sombre 
volcanic mountains of Jebel Druze and the in- 
hospitable rugged lava flow of the intractable 
Leja. The network of lines chosen by carto- 
graphers as the symbol of a lava field well repre- 
sents the confused mixture of fertile patches of 
wheat and rough, naked masses of dark volcanic 
rock, over which last both man and beast must 
walk warily for fear of broken legs. 

The American or European feels comparatively 
at home in Gilead because of its streams, springs, 
and woods, and its pastures where cows are knee- 
deep in grass. Yet some of the scenery has most 
unusual features. Northeast of Es Salt, we looked 
down a valley whose rocky sides were half cov- 
ered with green fields of wheat and yellow patches 
of barley, while its lower end was closed by the 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 231 



dark wooded mountains of Ajlun north of the Jab- 
bok. A pink river ran at the bottom of the valley, 
a strip of vivid color curving gracefully around 
the green spurs of deeply entrenched meanders, 
sometimes in full view and again hidden by the 
deep sinuosities of the valley, a river of oleanders 
in full bloom completely concealing the waters of 
the stream that gave them life. Gilead has no 
real forests in our sense of the word, merely an 
open growth of oaks twenty or thirty feet high, 
with a few rising to fifty or sixty feet; but the 
trees are so closely set that after dodging the 
branches for half a day as one rides among the net- 
work of mountain ravines, one understands how 
Absalom met his death in the haste of flight. The 
trees are being rapidly cut off by charcoal-burners, 
— timid, harmless people, utterly ignorant of the 
outside world. The timidity of the present Gil- 
eadites illustrates one effect of the mountainous 
country, and of its aloofness from the main routes 
of traffic. One day we photographed a poor char- 
coal burner. He stood meekly beside his pile of 
smouldering fuel while his picture was taken. 
Then, though he was twice my age, he came trem- 
bling, and in native fashion gently put his arm 
around me, saying, "My father, do not hurt me, 
do not bewitch me with that shiny box." 

Not far away in this same fair, secluded little 
country of Gilead we ascended to a hilltop where 
ruins and caves surround the half -fallen arch of an 



232 



PALESTINE 



ancient sanctuary. The place seemed uninhabited 
until we approached near enough to discover 
that rooms had been constructed among the 
ruins, and that many people were living in caves, 
— true troglodytes. No one suspected the camera 
of any harm here, until a wise troglodyte who had 
travelled full fifty miles to Jerusalem began to air 
his knowledge. It was pretty then to see a mere 
girl, who nevertheless was a mother, run with her 
baby to her own mother to find protection. She 
asked if it were true, as the men were saying, that 
if her photograph were taken her soul would be in 
the power of whoever might hold the picture. In 
spite of the shapeless gowns of dark blue and the 
ugly tattooing on the faces of the women, the scene 
was most graceful; for every woman walked like 
a queen. The protecting air of the mother and 
the appealing attitude of the daughter suggested 
Niobe and her child. Perhaps it was in some 
such village that Christ blessed the children, 
h On every side the heights of Gilead fall off to 
lower levels. On the west the descent to the Ara- 
bah is not so steep as the escarpments on either 
side of the Dead Sea, but closely resembles the 
warped border on the eastern side of Samaria, to 
which it is directly opposite. Southward the folds 
which give to Samaria and Gilead their peculiar 
topography gradually die out. The low hills of 
southern Gilead merge into the rolling plateau of 
Moab. The distinctive portion of Gilead is only 




OAK FOREST AND CHARCOAL-BURNERS IN GILEAD 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 233 

about forty miles long and twenty wide. On the 
south, however, no exact limit can be set. There 
Ammon, with its centre at Philadelphia, or Rab- 
bath-Ammon, on the upper Jabbok where that 
stream curves southward, forms an intermediate 
region . More open to invasion than Moab, it is less 
secluded than Gilead. Eastward Gilead merges 
into the plain of the desert. Invaders from the 
desert, who have been the chief cause of the 
unsettled character of the regions east of Jordan, 
have always hesitated to enter Gilead. They are 
not so safe among its hills as in the open country 
to the east and south. They cannot flee so readily, 
and the inhabitants have far more opportunity 
to lie in ambush or to fortify inaccessible hills. 
Moreover Gilead, because it lies at an elevation 
of three thousand feet in many places and of 
over thirty-five hundred in parts, is high enough 
to have abundant rain. Hence its oak woods, one 
of its greatest protectors. The Arab may bring 
his camels among mountains, but he dare not at- 
tempt to use them among forests where branches 
jut out on every side. Thus it has come to pass 
that Gilead bears an important part in the his- 
tory of Israel. If Samaria had stood high enough 
to prevent the rainy west winds from crossing 
the Jordan, or if the Appalachian structure had 
not extended on both sides of the Ghor, we 
should not have had the story of J ephthah in its 
present form, and the account of the blessing of 



234 



PALESTINE ; 



the children might have been lacking from the 
Gospels. 

Northward Gilead breaks off sharply, nearly 
due east of the fault of Esdraelon. Apparently on 
this side of Jordan, as on the other, the region 
south of the fault was unlifted. Here, however, 
the uplift took the form of a warping rather than 
a breaking of the crust. Where the land falls 
away, trees disappear, and the hills give place to 
the broad plain of Hauran or Bashan. Over a 
large portion of it the limestone which consti- 
tutes so large a part of Palestine is covered with 
lava. The soil is consequently rich and reten- 
tive of moisture. Inasmuch as southern Galilee 
lies low, the winds from the Mediterranean sweep 
eastward almost unchecked. From the Jordan 
and the Sea of Galilee they rise considerably to 
the plateau. They descend again but little, for 
the volcanic mountains of Jebel Druze, six thou- 
sand feet high, rise just east of the Hauran. 
Hence the winds are forced to ascend once more, 
and all the plain of Bashan, the Hollow, or En 
Nukra, as the Arabs call it, is well watered. 

Bashan is not sheltered as Gilead is. To be sure 
Hermon and Damascus protect it on the north, 
and the rough Leja and Jebel Druze on the east. 
The two latter, however, are in themselves a men- 
ace, for they are the natural retreat of plunderers. 
On the southeast the plain lies wholly open to in- 
vaders. From this direction the Israelites poured 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 235 



in to conquer Og, the king of Bashan, at Edrei. 
On the west and also on the north Bashan is open 
to the world in another way. The great trade 
routes which have had such an effect upon Sa- 
maria pass across its open acres, and have had 
their normal influence. Along them poured the 
Greek culture which gave rise to the league of the 
Decapolis. The cities of the league were pros- 
perous largely because located on the borders 
of these plains which form the richest granary 
of Syria. 

The life of Bashan is wholly different from that 
of Gilead. On our arrival at Irbid, the first of the 
ugly treeless villages in the great plain of wav- 
ing wheat east of the Sea of Galilee, the style in 
which we were entertained was more businesslike 
than in Judea, the Jordan Valley, or Gilead. We 
were led to a hideous guest-house made of alter- 
nate layers of white limestone and black basalt. 
Passing through a large courtyard, we entered a 
high-domed room, where a sheikh, who appeared 
to be the host, promptly seated himself on the 
plaster floor beside an open hearth of large stones 
in the middle of the room. Taking some coffee 
beans from a bag, he roasted and ground them, 
and then prepared coffee in long-beaked copper 
pots, for us and for all who might drop in to see 
the sights. Like the wild Beduin who had previ- 
ously entertained us in Moab, he took much 
pride in exhibiting his skill in the use of the large 



236 



PALESTINE 



carved mortar and huge pestle, the wooden im- 
plements used for coffee-grinding. He clicked the 
pestle against the sides with surprising vigor, 
bringing it down with all sorts of rhythms and 
all degrees of strength, from the softest tap to 
a blow that shook the hearth and caused little 
clouds of dust to rise from between the stones. 

In general one sunny, sombre lava village of 
Hauran differs little from another, but Dera'a, 
the ancient Edrei, is peculiar. It lies on a rocky 
point between a precipitous gully and the shallow 
canyon of a branch of the Yarmuk. Few places 
in the smooth plains of Bashan are so well pro- 
tected by nature. Therefore Edrei was the capi- 
tal of the country three thousand years ago, when 
the Israelite invaders defeated Og, and made his 
name forever famous. On our arrival there one 
glaring noon I strolled out to look at the walls of 
the tumble-down houses; for in the basalt blocks 
throughout Hauran one finds innumerable in- 
scriptions, chiefly Greek, and all manner of pretty 
bits of carving from old temples and churches. As 
I passed the arch of an ancient church I was 
greeted by a middle-aged woman. She wore a 
wide-sleeved dress of dark blue cloth, cut in the 
regulation Mother Hubbard style and fastened 
loosely with a single button at the neck. Her 
head was wrapped in another dark blue cloth 
which covered her neck, and almost concealed 
the two stubby eagles' wings tattooed in dark 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 237- 



blue upon her chin. Her cheeks also bore tat- 
tooed figures, and an irregular diamond-shaped 
figure enclosed a circle in the centre of her fore- 
head; while on the right side of her nose a tattooed 
spot took the place of the blue bead or little globe 
of silver worn by many women. She said some- 
thing in Arabic, of which I understood only the 
word cave; but as the caves of Edrei are famous, 
I cordially assented. Thereupon she led me to 
a low wooden door cut in a rough wall of stones 
and capped by a slab of basalt from some old 
temple, finely carved with scrolls and with the 
egg-and-dart pattern. Beyond a littered court- 
yard, to which the door gave access, we stooped 
low to enter a dark mud room where several 
people were seated cross-legged in a circle on 
the floor. The only man present repeated the 
remark about the cave with much cordiality, and 
seemed to be urging me to come to see it, bring- 
ing with me an interpreter and especially a me- 
jidieh (eighty cents), upon which latter point he 
laid much stress. 

When we went to the house later in the day, the 
owner pointed out the entrance to the cave, and 
said: "There is the cave, but I dare not take you 
in. The place is full of underground streets and 
houses and shops, and one can go for miles and 
miles in them; but it won't do to go in because 
the caves are full of spirits who hate to be dis- 
turbed. The first time any one went in, a boy of 



238 



PALESTINE 



my family was killed by the spirits; the next time 
a girl died, and the one or two other times ill luck 
fell on the household. If we sacrifice a goat it will 
be all right; but I can't sacrifice one." We ex- 
pressed our willingness to pay for a sacrifice, and 
asked if he had a goat to sell. Yes, he had, and he 
dived into a shed and yanked out a kid by the 
ears. He would sell us the goat and show us the 
cave for three mejidiehs. 

"Go ahead and sacrifice it," we said, but he 
seemed in no hurry, and after pretending to get 
ready, remarked: — 

"It is getting late now, and you have n't much 
time. The cave is very big. If you want to hurry 
I will just cut off the beast's ear and complete the 
sacrifice later." 

We assented, spurred on, as she thought, by 
the wife's remark that the cave extended to Bosra, 
more than twenty miles away. So far as we knew, 
nothing happened to the goat except that we paid 
for him, and the family ate him when they were 
ready, which may not have been for months. 
There was a real offering, however, before any one 
was allowed to venture into the cave. Taking 
in her hands two sheets of bread and some onions, 
the wife ran out and gave them to the first person 
whom she happened to meet, — a camel-driver. 
Meanwhile the householder took off his outer 
robe of dark blue with light blue facing, and gave 
it to me to put on because the cave would be dirty. 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 239 



He also advised us to take off our helmets and 
wrap our heads in handkerchiefs, which advice 
surprised us, because in other caves we had found 
the helmets excellent to protect our heads when 
we forgot ourselves and stood erect in low places. 

When all was ready we were one by one let 
twirling down by a rope into a cistern where 
straw was stored. At the bottom the only opening 
was a hole two feet in diameter, through which 
we squeezed head first and found ourselves in a 
passage of about the same height. Lighting our 
candles, we went forward, sometimes on hands 
and knees and sometimes on our stomachs, like 
worms trailing over the damp mud of the cavern 
floor. We continually expected to reach a larger 
passageway, but never did, although occasionally 
the tunnel widened into a cave where one could 
stand and walk around. Three times we came 
to chambers large enough to furnish shelter to a 
score of people; again we traversed passages whose 
branches ended sometimes in blank walls of ma- 
sonry, or in shafts leading up to the courtyards 
of houses in the village, or in dry cisterns which 
once furnished water to the people of the caves. 
We crawled for an hour and a half, and came out 
plastered with mud from head to foot. No one 
knows just when the caves were made, but their 
use is evident. They were places of refuge from 
the Arabs. Each house seems to have had a well 
communicating with the underground chambers. 



240 



PALESTINE 



At times of alarm the people and their chief valu- 
ables could promptly be hidden in the caves. The 
enemy might plunder or burn the houses, but no 
one would ever risk^attacking the refugees in their 
dark burrows, where death might lurk at any 
corner. Other cave villages of the same sort prob- 
ably exist in this region, for an inscription of 
Agrippa I, at Kanawat, thirty miles northeast of 
Edrei, has been interpreted as an exhortation to 
the people to give up the practice of living like 
wild beasts in caves. 

Nomadic invaders from the desert are not the 
only people of whom the inhabitants of the plains 
now stand in dread. The volcanic mountains of 
Bashan, thirty miles east of Edrei, are inhabited 
by Druzes, who, as robbers, are often more dan- 
gerous than any Arabs. Finding themselves in too 
close contact with the government in their old 
home in Lebanon a few generations ago, some of 
the more turbulent migrated to Bashan. I asked 
our Circassian guide whether he would go with 
us among the Druzes. He answered, "No, they 
are our enemies. They would shoot me. But 
they 'd do it fairly. They 're men like the Circas- 
sians, not beasts like the Arabs. If they are going 
to shoot, they stand up in the open and give the 
other man a chance. And if they make a promise 
they keep it." At Edrei the Kaimakam, or lieu- 
tenant governor, looked serious when we spoke 
of Jebel Druze. Did we not know, he asked, that 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 241 



the Druzes had recently killed an officer and sev- 
eral soldiers? Several companies of troops had 
been despatched through Edrei itself to quell the 
outlaws. The government at Damascus had 
turned back another party of Americans, and 
would probably do the same to us. What did we 
want to go for, anyhow? There was nothing to 
see in the Druze country, and nothing would hap- 
pen except that we should be shot, which would 
make trouble for everybody. We told our plans, 
with the single exception of our purpose to get 
rid of any escort from the government before 
we went among the Druzes. The wild mountain- 
eers hate the government but love the English; 
and Americans are classed as English. Finally 
the Kaimakam gave us a soldier to take us to 
Bosra, where the officer in command would de- 
cide whether we should be allowed to proceed. 

Bosra was once one of the important cities of 
the East. It was called Little Damascus, and had 
its great colonnade, its theatre, castle, and tem- 
ples, like Jerash and many other forgotten places. 
Now it is an extraordinarily dreary ruin, with the 
peculiarly unkempt, forsaken air which prevails 
among ruins where the stones consist of dark 
basalt. The modern village of two or three hun- 
dred houses is almost lost among the ruins which 
surround it on every side. We camped in a plea- 
sant garden, and soon received a call from the 
civil and military officials of the town, all of whom 



242 



PALESTINE 



were young. They seemed in much doubt as to 
what to do with us. In the morning, after long 
consultation, they came to the decision that they 
could not possibly supply us with an escort, — 
news which we received with apparent regret but 
inward joy. When we expressed our intention of 
starting at once, they were surprised, and also 
much perplexed as to their duty, until I pro- 
posed to write a note exempting the government 
from all responsibility, whatever might befall us 
among the Druzes. Then the officials let us go, 
after a friendly hour of talk, with the dire warn- 
ing that we would come back with bullets in our 
heads. 

As we rode out among the tents of the troops 
who had just been brought to quell the Druzes, 
the matter began to seem serious. A soldier on 
foot led us through the fields to a ruined Roman 
guard -house. There he pointed out the long 
straight line of a Roman road running gently up- 
ward a dozen miles to the picturesque castle of 
Sulkhad, perched on the crater of an old volcano. 
As he turned back and we started our horses up 
the road, untrodden of late, it seemed indeed as if 
we were bound for the enemy's country. 

It was a very peaceful enemy whom we found 
after an hour and a half : simple peasants in blue 
gowns, many -colored waistcoats, and graceful 
white turbans, which form a smooth band extend- 
ing five inches above the head and coming down 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 243 



in a pretty fold behind the neck and under the 
chin. They were ploughing the stony fields, 
among boundary stones which at a distance sug- 
gested men on guard. Behind the ploughs came 
boys who helped to drive the large black oxen, 
and with them rosy-faced women in blue skirts 
and colored waistcoats, looking far more attrac- 
tive than most of the women of Syria. The size 
of the oxen and the unusual sight of other cattle 
grazing on the higher mountains reminded us of 
the " kine of Bashan," famed in Biblical days. 
Two or three hours more brought us to Sulkhad, 
where we were received like expected guests rather 
than enemies. 

The Druzes are a proud, handsome people, 
whose bane is their proneness to quarrel and to 
take offence at the least affront. One can hardly 
fail to like them and to sympathize with them in 
spite of their faults. Two fathers brought their 
pretty children to amuse us. The favorite trick 
seemed to be to teach the little one to slap the 
hand held out to it, and then to make amends by 
kissing it and putting it to the forehead. The se- 
riousness with which the children took the matter 
was very pretty. One little fellow would not kiss 
my hand, although he slapped it. The father did 
not strike the child, but carried him off and left 
him crying in disgrace. The next day the young- 
ster of his own accord took my hand and kissed it. 
The incident was a good illustration of the loving 



244 



PALESTINE 



spirit which seems to prevail in the Druze fami- 
lies. In few places do people make more show of 
affection in the way of kissing ; and kissing, at 
the present time, is a European rather than an 
oriental habit. Parents kiss their children re- 
peatedly, and older brothers as well as sisters are 
seen carrying the little ones around and kissing 
them most lovingly. Men kiss one another when 
they meet, on one cheek or on both; and a niece 
may even kiss her uncle, although otherwise men 
and women do not kiss one another in public. 
Blue eyes and brown hair are common; and every 
traveller wonders how far these courteous, way- 
ward mountaineers with their un-oriental habits 
are the descendants of the old Crusaders. 

The manner in which they exterminate them- 
selves is a great pity. Not only do they fight with 
the Fellahin of the plains, whom they are wont to 
plunder, and with the Turkish government, which 
they hate, and with the Arabs, who are their ri- 
vals, but also with one another. In 1907 the vil- 
lage of Sulkhad was the scene of a quarrel between 
two clans which had hitherto been living together. 
Thirty men were killed, and the defeated party 
was forced to move away and found a new village. 
In many ways the Druzes are much like the High- 
land Scotch three hundred years ago. Living 
among mountains that are hard to traverse, both 
in Jebel Druze and in the Lebanon, they preserve 
their independence and their own peculiar mode 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 245 



of religion, and plunder their neighbors when they 
find opportunity. They are weary of the uncer- 
tainty of their life, and many of the older men 
wear an habitual expression of anxiety, as well 
they may, when they are in constant danger of 
ruin at the hands of the government. They ap- 
pealed to us, as they always do to Englishmen, to 
use our influence to have England assume the 
government, little realizing how far such a step 
is from the bounds of probability. 

We experienced not only the hospitality, but 
the rapacity of the Druzes. From the shady lit- 
tle theatre and other ruins of Kanawat, Mr. Gra- 
ham and I had sent our horses ahead, and with the 
politic Abdullah were following them at a distance 
of a mile or more on foot. Suddenly from behind 
a great heap of rocks two Druzes appeared on 
horseback about thirty feet away. One of them 
covered each of us in turn with his rifle, and then 
kept it steadily aimed at me while he demanded 
our money. Naturally we laughed at him and re- 
fused to be robbed. My companions got their re- 
volvers ready, but as I had none, all I could do 
was to tell Abdullah to say, "Go to, this is un- 
seemly. Better put up your guns, or you '11 get 
into trouble." My companions both said after- 
ward that they were ready to fire at the Druze 
who held the rifle the moment he shot me; but I 
could not quite see how that would have helped 
matters. However, the Druze looked down the 



246 



PALESTINE 



barrel for a minute and I up it. Then he put up 
his gun and the two rode off hastily, much fright- 
ened, it is to be hoped, by the pistol-shot which 
Abdullah discharged into the air after them. They 
probably thought we were unarmed, but for two 
men to attempt to hold up three was certainly a 
bold deed, quite in keeping with the Druze char- 
acter. 

North of the volcanic mountains of Jebel Druze 
lies the Leja, a great rough plain of lava. We 
climbed the chief of the craters from which the 
lava was poured out, El Gharara el Kubla, a huge 
ring of solid rock a mile in diameter. From its 
midst rises a beautiful symmetrical crater of slag 
and ashes a hundred and twenty-five feet high. 
Eastward at our feet, within a black wall far too 
large for the present shrunken town, lay Shubha, 
whose sombre houses, ancient columns, and ruined 
temples, all of lava, stand in strange contrast to 
a startlingly white modern shrine. Farther away 
to the northeast and east green fields stretch gently 
desertward, broken by old volcanic cones, some 
green to the top except for the black spot of a vil- 
lage, others black and sinister. Beyond them lay 
the brown line of the desert and a few dreamy 
blue mountains. Jebel Druze lay southward, a 
featureless mass of dark rock half covered with 
soil. To the right of the mountains, in the west- 
ward quarter, a patch of golden wheat-fields re- 
called the richness of Hauran. From this we 



LANDS OF JEPHTHAH AND OG 247 



turned to the northwest, to a broad plain of lava, 
dark gray and sterile in many places, but broken 
by patches of grain as rich as those of Hauran. 
Close at hand the lava fell off in craggy, knotted 
masses looking as if stirred in some huge caldron 
and poured out in the act of hardening. Straight 
northward we looked down upon three other cra- 
ters, a most unusual sight. They lie just far enough 
out of line to allow a good view of all three, one 
irregular and rocky close at hand, the next a per- 
fect crater truncated smoothly on top and almost 
dainty in shape, and the third a cone of ashes 
whose western side has been blown out, leaving a 
hollow like the armchair of a giant. 

Coming down from the crater, we rode across 
the strange Leja, among rough masses of dark- 
gray scoria almost concealed by splendid gray 
lichens splashed with brilliant orange, over huge 
rounded waves of deep blue lava smoothly rounded 
and often disclosing strange ropy foldings, and 
through fields of grain which were one-third heaps 
of rocks piled up by the unremitting toil of the 
generations of long ago. Here and there we saw 
dark ruins scarcely to be distinguished from the 
piling up of the natural rock, and twice we passed 
villages safely located in the most rugged parts of 
the lava among rolling waves of stone away from 
the smooth cultivated regions. The Leja is only 
imperfectly mapped, and the village where we 
were to meet the caravan proved to be six miles 



248 



PALESTINE 



farther than we had supposed. The sun dropped 
out of sight in a hot sky of pure gold, but no 
village was in sight. As soon as it grew dark 
we promptly lost the track amid a maze of rocks, 
and dared go no farther for fear of breaking the 
horses' legs or our own. The sound of frogs 
near at hand proclaimed the position of one of 
the scummy ponds which abound in the hollows 
during the spring, and thither we cautiously pro- 
ceeded. When the horses' hoofs ceased to clatter, 
we could distinctly hear the distant braying of 
donkeys and bleating of lambs, punctuated by 
the sharp bark of a dog, but we dared not go on- 
ward in the darkness. There we stayed, hungry 
and uncomfortable, although actually within hear- 
ing of a village where food and rest could be found. 
Many another party of strangers with intents less 
peaceful than ours has doubtless been through the 
same experience. As we rode to the village in the 
light of dawn, we realized how the roughness of 
the Leja has always made it the haunt of men who 
live at variance with their neighbors, and why it 
has always been one of the hardest of all places to 
conquer. 



CHAPTER XII 



THE CLIMATE OF ANCIENT PALESTINE 



Within historic times the geological structure 
and topographic form of Palestine cannot have 
changed appreciably. The climate, on the con- 
trary, may have changed notably. The influence 
of the land upon history cannot be understood 
without a knowledge of whatever difference there 
may be between physical conditions in the past 
and present. Some writers hold that two or three 
thousand years ago the climate of Palestine dif- 
fered from that of to-day. To this change, pri- 
marily, they ascribe the present poverty-stricken 
condition of the country. Others, with equal posi- 
tiveness, declare that this is impossible. Nothing, 
they say, demands such an hypothesis: the decay 
of Palestine and of the neighboring countries is 
clearly due to human greed, misgovernment, and 
folly. Among those who have believed in changes 
of climate are Livingstone, who recorded his con- 
clusions during an enforced halt on his last great 
journey in central Africa; Reclus, whose know- 
ledge of the geography of the world as a whole 
has rarely, if ever, been surpassed; Fraas, Hull, 
Fischer, and others. On the contrary side may be 
ranged the names of Ankel, Conder, Hilderscheid, 



250 



PALESTINE 



and Wilson, all of them able thinkers. On the 
whole, the weight of authority, so far as numbers 
are concerned, lies with those who believe in 
changes. The majority of recent writers, how- 
ever, incline to the contrary opinion. 

The question of climatic changes in Palestine 
possesses a twofold importance. In the first 
place, it has a vital bearing upon Biblical history 
and interpretation. The accounts of the Exodus; 
the stories of the Assyrian conquests and of the 
commerce of Solomon; and the records of the in- 
tercourse of Egypt and Syria, and of the popu- 
lousness and fertility of Palestine in the time of 
Christ, are all subject to very different interpre- 
tations according to whether we accept or reject 
the theory of climatic change. If the theory be 
rejected, a choice must be made between two 
horns of a dilemma. It is necessary either to ac- 
cept the view of a certain school of critics who 
hold that the Biblical authors indulged in undue 
hyperbole; or else to believe, with the old-time 
theologians, that in the ancient days God inter- 
rupted the course of nature in favor of the Chosen 
People. If the theory be accepted, a large num- 
ber of narratives which now seem improbable 
become reasonable. 

The second reason for the importance of the 
study of the climate of ancient Palestine is that 
that country and the surrounding regions furnish 
perhaps the best of all keys to the climatic history 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 251 



of the whole ancient world. The central position 
of Palestine, and the accuracy with which its 
history is known for three thousand years, make 
it a standard by which to test conclusions as to re- 
gions whose history is less well known, or whose 
climate is such that the effects of change are less 
apparent. Lying, as it does, on the border be- 
tween the great desert tracts of Asia and the bet- 
ter-watered countries of the Mediterranean, its 
climate shares that of both regions. A slight 
change would have marked effects, especially 
upon — 

" the narrow strip of verdure strown 
Which just divides the desert from the sown." 

It seems to be true, as a principle, that, in the 
regions occupied by the ancient empires of Eurasia 
and northern Africa, unfavorable changes of cli- 
mate have been the cause of depopulation, war, 
migration, the overthrow of dynasties, and the 
decay of civilization; while favorable changes 
have made it possible for nations to expand, grow 
strong, and develop the arts and sciences. If this 
be true, Palestine and Syria ought to show evi- 
dence of it as plainly as any part of the world, 
provided the climate has changed. Their history 
should present a close correspondence between 
climatic fluctuations on the one hand, and eco- 
nomic, social, and political events on the other. 
Before the existence or non-existence of any such 
relation between climate and history can be proved, 



PALESTINE 



it is necessary first to determine conclusively 
whether changes of climate have actually taken 
place; and then to ascertain the extent and na- 
ture of the changes and the times at which they 
have occurred. 



(Ji.Hipothesis.of Uniformity 




(3) Hypothesis of Progressive Change 




■r — * — ^> 



(4) Hypothesis of Pulsatory Changes 

Figure 3. 
Climatic Hypotheses. 



In the discussion of the climate of ancient 
Palestine four hypotheses may be advanced. 
They may be illustrated by the accompanying 
diagrams. The horizontal line in each case rep- 
resents the course of time from the past to the 
present, the left-hand end denoting a period some 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 253 



three thousand years ago near the beginning of 
well-known history. The height of the curves 
above or below the horizontal line indicates the 
departure of the climate at any given time from 
the climate of to-day. An upward curve repre- 
sents increasing precipitation or falling tempera- 
ture, or both; a downward curve indicates dimin- 
ishing precipitation or rising temperature, or both. 
In other words, high points on the curves betoken 
relatively cool, damp conditions, and low points 
warm, dry conditions. The wavy character of the 
lines represents the fact that the climate of all 
parts of the world is subject to minor variations, 
sometimes a series of dry or warm years, and at 
others wet or cold years. These variations seem 
to fall in cycles, the best known of which is the 
35- or 36-year cycle of Bruckner. There are indi- 
cations of other cycles having lengths of three, 
eleven, and three hundred years, but these are as 
yet open to some question. 

The first diagram represents what may be called 
the uniformitarian hypothesis. According to it, 
during historic time there has been no marked 
alteration in the climate of Palestine or any other 
part of the world. The only changes have been 
those pertaining to the various cycles mentioned 
in the last paragraph. The climate of a given 
place may vary a little for a few years, but it al- 
ways comes back to a certain norm. The changes 
of the historic past are like those of the present 



254 



PALESTINE 



with no essential difference either in kind or degree. 
The uniformitarian hypothesis is largely held by 
meteorologists. They know that the current idea 
that the climate of America or Europe has changed 
appreciably during the last few score years is 
without foundation. They see that the meteoro- 
logical records of the past century present only the 
faintest indications of permanent changes in 
temperature, rainfall, and barometric pressure. 
Knowing how easy it is to make mistakes in the 
exposure and reading of instruments, they believe 
that the few indications of change which appear 
from the compilation of records are the result of 
error, as many of them undoubtedly are. Me- 
teorologists are thus rendered sceptical as to all 
changes of climate, whether past or present. 

The second diagram represents perhaps the 
commonest of all views as to the climate of Pales- 
tine. Many travellers go to the East, and see 
strong indications of an apparent change of cli- 
mate. Having heard much as to the havoc wrought 
by the destruction of forests, and finding that 
where forests exist, rain is more abundant than 
elsewhere, they jump at the conclusion that the 
forests "draw" the rain. Certain authors, for 
example Anderlind, utterly ignore the possibility 
that the reverse is true, and that the greater 
abundance of rain causes the forests. The harm- 
ful results of deforestation upon the flow of rivers 
and upon the washing away of the soil cannot be 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 255 



denied. The only question is whether so small a 
feature as a forest can appreciably affect the 
amount of rainfall. The many persons who hold 
this theory believe that Palestine was once well 
wooded and somewhat more rainy than it now is. 
Then the forests were cut off and the climate de- 
teriorated to its present condition. 

The exponents of the third hypothesis assume 
that a progressive change of climate has taken 
place. Usually they make no attempt to explain 
its cause, but merely point to a body of facts 
which apparently indicate a much greater abun- 
dance of water in the past than now. Since the 
time of Christ, they say, the fertility, habitability, 
and general prosperity of Palestine have declined 
to a greater degree than could possibly result from 
deforestation or from human negligence and folly. 
Geologists are especially prone to this view. They 
find unquestionable evidence that during the 
glacial period Palestine enjoyed a climate very 
different from that of to-day. The Dead Sea 
expanded so as to fill most of the Jordan Valley, 
as is proved by elevated strands; and glaciers 
existed upon Mount Lebanon, as appears from old 
moraines. In certain Syrian caves remains of pre- 
historic man are found associated with leaves of 
northern trees such as the oak and maple of cen- 
tral Europe, and with bones of animals whose 
habitat is far to the north. Therefore, the geo- 
logists are apt to assume that the change from the 



256 PALESTINE 

climatic conditions of the glacial period to those 
of to-day has been gradual, and that it has lasted 
well down into historic times. 

The last hypothesis, that of pulsatory changes, 
is an attempt to harmonize two groups of facts 
part of which agree with the uniformitarian hy- 
pothesis, and part with the hypothesis of progres- 
sive change. That is, some facts seem to indicate 
that conditions like those of to-day existed one or 
two thousand years ago; while other equally sa- 
lient facts apparently point to greater rainfall or 
lower temperature in the past than in the present. 
The two sets of facts seem inexplicable except 
on the supposition that the climate of Palestine 
and other countries has been subject to fluctua- 
tions of considerable amplitude, although on the 
whole the tendency has been toward warmth and 
aridity. 

In considering the present climate of Palestine 
we have seen that the location of the country in 
reference to the great climatic zones of the earth 
as a whole, and in reference to the Mediterranean 
Sea, in conjunction with the relief of the land, 
gives rise to peculiar conditions. The great extent 
of the land-mass of Asia and the high degree to 
which it becomes heated under the rays of the 
summer sun cause all the climatic zones to be 
strongly deflected northward. Palestine lies nor- 
mally at the southern edge of the zone of prevail- 
ing westerly winds where rain is supplied more or 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 257 



less abundantly by cyclonic storms of large dimen- 
sions moving for thousands of miles from west to 
east. During the summer, this zone is deflected 
so far to the north, that its place is taken by the 
rainless sub-tropical zone of dry descending air, or 
by a modified form of the trade-wind belt, where 
the winds blow prevailingly from a northeasterly 
quarter. In the case of the zone of descending air 
there is no rainfall, because, as the air comes down, 
it becomes warmer, and hence relatively drier, so 
that it absorbs moisture instead of giving it up. 
In the case of the modified trade-winds, air from 
the east has blown over the dry interior of Asia, 
and has had no opportunity to collect moisture. 
That from the north has had scarcely better op- 
portunities than that from the east; and as it is 
also moving into warmer regions, where its capa- 
city for holding moisture increases, it, of course, 
gives up no rain. Thus Palestine has a long dry 
season from April to October, and a rainy season 
during the other half of the year, as appears on 
page 34 in the diagram of the annual distribu- 
tion of rainfall. Under the influence of the prevail- 
ing westerly winds of the winter a large portion of 
Palestine has quite as much precipitation as most 
parts of England or of the eastern United States. 
Unfortunately most of it comes in the form of 
rain and hence runs off faster than if it were snow. 
The long dry season renders irrigation advisable 
wherever possible, and indispensable in many 



258 



PALESTINE 



places. On the plateaus the porous nature of the 
limestone, and the small amount of level land pre- 
vent irrigation. Hence the inhabitants depend 
now, as always, upon "the rain of heaven." The 
people store it up in cisterns for the use of them- 
selves and their cattle during the long dry sum- 
mers, and trust the efficacy of prayer to supply a 
due amount for the crops in the late fall and early 
spring. 

In considering our four climatic theories, it 
must not be supposed that the changes demanded 
are radical. 

During historic times there has doubtless al- 
ways been a wet, rainy season in winter, and a 
long dry season in summer. The most that is as- 
sumed is that the rainy season may have been 
somewhat longer and moister than at present, 
with a greater number of days upon which rain 
or snow fell; summer storms, now very rare, may 
have occurred fairly often; and the mean tempera- 
ture of the year or of the winter may have been 
lower than is now the case. Such changes, even 
though slight, would have a great effect upon the 
habitability of the country. They would increase 
the productivity of the parts now cultivated, but 
their chief importance would be their effect in 
rendering agriculture certain instead of highly 
precarious in places like Beersheba or Ziza. Geo- 
logists and physicists who have made a special 
study of the glacial period have come to the con- 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 259 



elusion that a diminution of from 6° to 10° C, or 
11° to 18° F., in the mean temperature of Europe 
and America, provided it endured for a sufficient 
length of time, would suffice to cause a recurrence 
of glacial conditions such as those through which 
the earth has recently passed. It would cause the 
United States to be covered with ice down to 
Long Island and Cincinnati, and would make a 
large part of the rest of the country as uninhabit- 
able as northern Canada. This being so, a change 
of 2° or 3° F. in the mean annual temperature of 
Palestine, with corresponding changes in precipi- 
tation and evaporation, would clearly have a 
marked effect upon the habitability of the coun- 
try. 

The most serious disadvantage in the climate 
of Palestine to-day is not lack of rain. From 1860 
to 1906 the average precipitation at Jerusalem 
amounted to over twenty - six inches per year, 
about the same as that of moist London and more 
than that of Berlin or of the State of Minnesota. 
Practically all the rain, however, comes in the 
colder half of the year, when it is of little use for 
vegetation. Of the total amount of twenty-six 
inches, 25.5 inches falls during the six months 
from November to April inclusive, and 21.5 inches 
in the four months of December, January, Feb- 
ruary, and March. From May to October inclu- 
sive almost no rain falls, and April has but little. 
The seasonal distribution of rain in Palestine 



260 



PALESTINE 



much resembles that in central California, al- 
though the rainy season in the Asiatic country is 
somewhat shorter than in the American State. 
Santa Cruz, near Monterey, on the coast a little 
south of San Francisco, is one of the rainiest places 
in California outside of the high Sierran region. 
It had an annual precipitation of 26.8 inches from 
1873 to 1903. Of this amount, 23.3 inches fell dur- 
ing the six months from November to April inclu- 
sive, as against 25.5 in Jerusalem, while 18.3 
inches fell in the four months from December to 
March, as against 21.5 at Jerusalem. It thus ap- 
pears that the rainfall of Jerusalem is much like 
that of Santa Cruz, although more concentrated 
during the winter months. 

In Palestine, if the "former" and "latter" 
rains at either end of the rainy season do not 
come at the expected time or are not sufficiently 
heavy, the crops fail more or less completely. 
Hence, a slight lengthening of the rainy season 
would be of great value in giving assurance of 
moisture enough for at least moderate crops. If 
the winter temperature were lower, it would also 
be a great advantage. Where the winter precipi- 
tation takes the form of rain, much of the water 
runs off, and there is danger that the ground may 
not become completely soaked. If the precipita- 
tion takes the form of snow, this melts gradually 
and the ground becomes thoroughly saturated. 
The spring rains serve to keep the surface wet. 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 261 



Thus, when the rainy season comes to an end, a 
large body of underground water is ready to sup- 
port the growth of plants, especially of trees which 
require moisture late in the season, and to sustain 
the flow of springs and other sources of water for 
irrigation. It would, therefore, be a great advan- 
tage to Palestine if the winters were a few degrees 
colder, so that snow fell more abundantly and 
stayed longer than now, and if the rainy season 
were a little longer, so that there would be less 
danger of drought in the critical seasons of fall 
planting and spring growth. 

In the following pages it must be borne in mind 
that no greater change than this is postulated. 
One writer compares the climate of ancient Pales- 
tine to that of England to-day. Such a compari- 
son is misleading. It involves a complete change 
in the regimen of the seasons. If the climate of 
Palestine during historic times were ever different 
from what it is to-day, it probably resembled that 
which would now prevail along the iEgean coast 
of Asia Minor if the relief of the land and its rela- 
tion to the sea were like those of Syria. 

In the long discussion over the climate of Pales- 
tine many lines of evidence have been brought 
forward. Some are inconclusive, because of the 
impossibility of distinguishing between the work 
of man and that of nature, because human modes 
of expression are so variable, and because adja- 



262 



PALESTINE 



cent regions are so diverse. Ancient statements 
as to meteorological phenomena, or as to the fer- 
tility of the soil, belong to this class. So do data 
as to the kinds of plants growing in Palestine in 
the past and at present. In the future these lines 
of evidence will doubtless furnish many important 
facts. At present, research has only gone far 
enough to show that, while they are not positively 
inconsistent with the theory of climatic uniform- 
ity, they are more readily explicable on the theory 
of change, as may be seen by reference to the 
appendix. Leaving out the inconclusive lines of 
evidence, there remain five which make it possible 
to form some fair estimate of the validity of the 
four climatic hypotheses. These are: (1) the den- 
sity of the population of Palestine at various 
periods; (2) the distribution of forests; (3) an- 
cient migrations, trade routes, and lines of inva- 
sion; (4) the distribution, location, and water 
supply of abandoned ruins, and (5) the fluctua- 
tions of the Dead Sea. 

One of the commonest arguments in favor of a 
change of climate is the former density of popu- 
lation. Taken by itself the argument is inconclu- 
sive. Combined with other lines of evidence it is 
important as will appear in the discussion of de- 
forestation. In Deuteronomy the number of men 
able to bear arms who came into Palestine is said 
to have been 603,550, besides women and chil- 
dren. This would mean a total of between two 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 263 



and three million. In David's time the popula- 
tion, according to the census which he took, is re- 
ported to have been between five and six million. 
Most authorities agree with Hilderscheid, one of 
the strongest opponents of the theory of climatic 
change, who says that although these figures may 
be regarded as "in oriental fashion greatly exag- 
gerated, yet it cannot be doubted that the popu- 
lation of that time was much more numerous and 
dense than it has now become. Since this popu- 
lation lived almost exclusively by agriculture and 
cattle - raising, the soil of Palestine must have 
given much more sustenance than in our day, 
when it with difficulty supports about 600,000 
people. That the productivity of the land has 
diminished notably since ancient times admits 
of no doubt; the question is, what causes have 
occasioned this diminution." 

The fact of the diminution in the fertility 
and resources, and, consequently, in the popula- 
tion of Palestine is so patent and well known that 
it is unnecessary to dwell on it. Only two causes 
for this state of affairs have been seriously sug- 
gested, namely, changes of climate and human 
folly. Hilderscheid concludes his discussion of 
the subject thus: "We come to the conclusion 
that the present poor economic condition and 
sparse population are not due to an actual change 
in natural conditions, but that the sad state in 
which the land is found at present has been 



264 



PALESTINE 



brought about chiefly as the result of historic de- 
velopment. Certainly the hope may be cherished 
that by a fundamental change in the conditions 
occasioned by Turkish barbarism, the present 
barren and unproductive land may again in 
course of time be brought to a state of culture and 
prosperity." Many pages have been devoted to 
the discussion of the possibility of thus restoring 
Palestine. Most writers on the country have 
something to say about the matter. There is so 
much opportunity for reasonable diversity of 
opinion, however, that the discussion has hitherto 
been inconclusive, and must remain so, until we 
have examined other criteria by which it shall be 
possible to determine beyond question whether 
changes of climate have or have not occurred. If 
they have occurred, their influence must first be 
considered, and then the part played by human 
folly can be fairly estimated. 

Among the believers in climatic change a large 
number attribute the supposed phenomenon to 
deforestation. They point to the frequent men- 
tion of forests in the Old Testament, a fact which 
certainly suggests a state of affairs different from 
that of to-day. For instance, when the Israelites 
entered Palestine they appear to have found the 
country well covered with forests which it was 
necessary to clear away before they could take 
possession of the land. In Joshua xvii, 14-18, 
we read that when the country was divided 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 265 



among the twelve tribes, Ephraim and Manasseh 
received the central part of the country, the re- 
gion later known as Samaria. The children of 
Ephraim and of Manasseh complained that the 
country allotted to them was not large enough. 
To this Joshua answered: "If thou be a great 
people, get thee up to the forest, and cut down for 
thyself there in the land of the Perizzites and of the 
Rephaim, since the hill-country of Ephraim is too 
narrow for thee." And the children of Joseph 
said: "The hill-country is not enough for us; and 
all the Canaanites that dwell in the land of the 
valley have chariots of iron, both they who are 
in Beth-shean and its towns, and they who are in 
the valley of Jezreel." And Joshua answered 
Ephraim and Manasseh, saying, "Thou art a great 
people, and hast great power; thou shalt not have 
one lot only; but the hill-country shall be thine; 
for though it is a forest, thou shalt cut it down/' 
(Revised Version.) 

It seems impossible to put any interpretation 
upon this passage except that when the Israelites 
invaded Palestine the lowlands were cleared, while 
the central highland was covered with an unin- 
habited forest, which the newcomers cleared just 
as the early American colonists, on a vastly larger 
scale, cleared what is now the eastern United 
States. 

Authors such as Hilderscheid, Ankel, and Con- 
der, however, who do not believe in changes of 



266 



PALESTINE 



climate, lay much stress on the fact that the three 
Hebrew words translated "wood" or "forest" do 
not necessarily mean exactly what we mean by 
those terms. Conder thus sets forth the meaning 
of the three words used in the Old Testament. The 
first, "choresh," "does not necessarily imply tim- 
ber trees, but rather copse or underwood such as 
still exists." The second, " jash," usually trans- 
lated "forest," "might be rendered 4 wilderness,' 
according to the old use of the word. This may be 
compared with the more dense thickets of lentisk 
and dwarf-oak, with occasional scattered pines 
in the high ground, which clothe the western slopes 
of the hills. That the amount of this kind of 
growth has materially decreased and is still de- 
creasing there is no doubt." The third word, 
"etz," applies to timber trees, but does not of 
necessity mean forest, as it is often used for soli- 
tary trees. Conder concludes that "the charac- 
ter of the wooded growth is unchanged. The dis- 
tricts covered by 4 wood' [in the sense of thick 
copse apparently] have on the whole materially 
decreased." 

What Conder and the others say about the va- 
rious words used for forests is interesting and im- 
portant, but it gives no clue to the nature of the 
growth which the invading Israelites were obliged 
to clear away. The same word may be used in 
very different senses at different times, or even at 
one time. We use the word " woods " f or a growth 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 267 



of giant trees a hundred feet high and also for a 
little grove of saplings twenty feet high. Writers 
on South America use the word "forest" in de- 
scribing both the Amazon basin and the Gran 
Chaco farther south in Bolivia and northern Ar- 
gentina. In the one case, the growth consists of 
magnificent trees growing so close together that 
their tops shut out all sunlight. In the other case, 
the country is covered with typical "savanna," 
where isolated trees occur in wide stretches of 
open scrub and grass. 

Leaving now the question of the nature of the 
forests or scrub, as the case may be, which occu- 
pied the mountains at the time of Joshua, it ap- 
pears fairly certain that in its day of greatness 
Palestine was not a wooded country. Hilderscheid 
and Ankel point out that if the population of the 
Holy Land was formerly much denser than now, 
it stands to reason that the opportunity for forests 
was slight, especially as practically all the people 
practised agriculture.] Whatever forests may have 
existed originally must have been largely cut off 
for local use. As Ankel puts it in reference to the 
land west of Jordan where the children of Joseph 
were urged by Joshua to cut off the trees: "For 
the nearly four thousand years of the historic past 
a diminution in the forests west of the Jordan is 
not proved. On the contrary, one can scarcely 
climb a mountain peak on which, among the wild 
bushes, one cannot find traces of old terraces for 



268 



PALESTINE 



the location of vineyards and fig gardens, or of 
grainfields; or where there are not winepresses 
hewn out of the solid rock, banks of stones built up 
for threshing-floors, primitive cisterns, etc., wit- 
nesses of the industry of the former race which 
knew how to make even the barren ground fruit- 
ful. When these works were carried out it is hard 
to say; but at all events it was at a time when 
what one in Syria calls forests' were restricted 
to narrower limits than now." 

Since forests were of such limited occurrence in 
the time of the greatest prosperity of Palestine, 
they can scarcely have had much effect upon rain- 
fall. It may be added that meteorologists find no 
ground for believing that forests, however useful 
they may be in other respects, ever have more 
than the slightest effect upon the amount of rain, 
equivalent perhaps to an additional elevation of 
the land to the extent of one or two hundred 
feet. 

The works of ancient authors contain many ac- 
counts of routes of travel which were once much 
used, but are now abandoned for lack of water 
and pasture. One of the best known of such routes 
leads from Palestine to Egypt through the north- 
ern part of Sinai. Three thousand years ago it 
was one of the most important routes in the world. 
Caravans moved back and forth along it with 
facility. To go from Syria to Egypt on business 
at the time of the Jewish Patriarchs was a com- 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 269 



mbn matter. In later days an active commerce 
was carried on between Egypt, on the one hand, 
and Syria, Assyria, and Arabia, on the other, all 
of it passing easily across the peninsula of Sinai. 
Great armies followed the same route. We read 
again and again of how the Egyptians waged war 
in Syria. Alexander twice traversed the route be- 
tween Palestine and Egypt with ease. 

To-day all is changed. Practically no one, ex- 
cept the scientific European traveller and a few 
Beduin, ever crosses the desert from Palestine 
to Egypt. From a commercial point of view the 
route is well-nigh impossible. Water and grass are 
so scarce that a few caravans would consume all. 
If caravans like those of the palmy days of Assyria 
and Egypt should attempt the route, most of their 
animals would perish. Where the great armies of 
the ancients marched and counter-marched time 
and again, the little army of Napoleon in 1799 
was almost ruined on the way from St. Jean d'Acre 
to the Pelusian mouth of the Nile. The Egyp- 
tians probably knew more than the French about 
methods of travel in dry regions. Nevertheless, it 
is highly improbable that they can have experi- 
enced any such difficulties as those of Napoleon's 
army. If they had, they scarcely would have made 
so many expeditions against Syria. Egypt could 
hardly have been so keenly interested in Syria, if 
the two lands had been separated by the deserts of 
to-day. 



270 



PALESTINE 



In this same region, three thousand years or 
more before the days of Napoleon, the Israelites 
are said to have wandered for forty years on their 
way from Egypt to the Promised Land. Their 
number, it will be remembered, is given in the 
Book of Numbers as over six hundred thousand 
warriors, besides women and children. The total 
thus amounts to between two and three million 
souls, together with all manner of flocks and beasts 
of burden. For years, so we are told, they wan- 
dered in Sinai, sometimes hungry and thirsty, but 
usually finding enough to eat and drink, both for 
themselves and their flocks. Time and again the 
migratory horde came into conflict with powerful 
tribes of aborigines, such as the Amalekites. Ac- 
cording to the Biblical account, not only were the 
Israelites a vast horde, but the peninsula was well 
peopled. The number of permanent inhabitants 
must have far exceeded anything that is now pos- 
sible. At present the total population amounts 
to only four or five thousand wretched Beduin. 
The neighboring regions of the Tih and Arabia 
Petrsea, where once the Edomites and Amorites 
dwelt, are no better peopled. Always, as Fraas 
well says, the hungry Arabs are engaged in fights 
with one another for grazing grounds or for the 
scanty springs which alone make life possible. 
"In consequence of the visit of our caravan to 
the camping place of the Beduin " he tells us, in 
speaking of the expedition of the Due de Luynes, 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 271 

"the spring of Selaf was exhausted in three days. 
So the worthy Sheikh Xassar declared to us that 
dear as his guests were to him, yet before evening 
we must move our camp to some other place. His 
tribe already felt the lack of water. Now, in a 
land which becomes literally exhausted and eaten 
up through the invasion of only a thousand addi- 
tional men, can Israel have halted for years?" 

It may be admitted that many or even most of 
the details as to the wanderings of the Israelites 
are inaccurate, and that there is much exaggera- 
tion. It can scarcely be denied, however, that the 
story has an historical basis, and that a large body 
of people, the ancestors of the Jews, came out of 
the regions known as Sinai, the Tih, and Arabia 
Petraea and invaded the fertile land of Palestine. 
In the records handed down to us, the number of 
invaders may have been multiplied tenfold or 
twenty-fold, but it must have been large. The 
time of the wanderings may have been ten years 
or a hundred. All this is immaterial. 

The essential fact is that a large body of no- 
mads, starting from Egypt, traversed the Sinaitic 
peninsula and Arabia Petrsea, and finally invaded 
Palestine. They suffered some hardships, but not 
a tithe of what any similar body of people would 
suffer now. They met a large number of inhabit- 
ants during the course of their journey, far more 
than would be met with to-day. The country was 
then much more densely populated than now, as 



272 



PALESTINE 



appears from the abundant ruins of cisterns, ter- 
raced fields, houses, villages, and cities upon which 
every traveller expatiates. All the circumstances 
are eminently consistent with the existence of 
more favorable natural conditions in the past 
than in the present. They are eminently incon- 
sistent with the present conditions. 

In this connection another point needs empha- 
sis. The writers of the Biblical narrative and of 
other ancient documents lived near Sinai; they 
were familiar with it personally or from the ac- 
counts of contemporaries who had traversed the 
region on business or pleasure. They wrote for 
men who knew the places mentioned. Under such 
conditions they could not have falsified their ac- 
counts as some modern critics would have us be- 
lieve. They must have described the country as 
they and their contemporaries knew it to be. Al- 
most every modern traveller has much to say of 
the hardships of travel in Sinai, and of the impos- 
sibility of its supporting multitudes of people. 
The ancient writers say almost nothing of this. 
We can scarcely suppose that they were fools or 
knaves, and therefore we must believe that they 
described things approximately as they were. 

The arguments which apply to Sinai apply with 
equal or greater force to the great Syrian desert. 
Livingstone speaks of the great armies which 
crossed the desert. They apparently did not fol- 
low the roundabout route through Palmyra or 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 273 

Aleppo, as all modern caravans do. To-day any 
other line of march would entail the greatest suf- 
fering, but such does not seem to have been the 
case in the past. At the time of the captivities of 
Israel prisoners were many times carried to Baby- 
lonia, and the route which they followed was ap- 
parently across what is now the desert. On this 
point Livingstone makes an important comment. 
"The prophets," he says, "in telling ail the woes 
and miseries of the captivities, never allude to 
suffering or perishing by thirst on the way. Had 
the route to Assyria been then as it is now, they 
could scarcely have avoided referring to the thirst 
on the way; but everything else is mentioned ex- 
cept that." 

One of the most remarkable features of the com- 
merce of the world during the Roman period and 
earlier was the great proportion of it conducted 
in regions where none now exists because the 
country is too dry. For instance, the trade of 
Arabia was highly important, although now it is 
practically nothing. In this connection we may 
note the peculiar fact that Ptolemy describes five 
rivers there, where now there is not one. Up to 
the end of the first century of the Christian era, 
the city of Petra was a great commercial empo- 
rium. "Petra," to quote the Encyclopaedia Bri- 
tannica, "was not only safe and well- watered; it 
lay close to the most important lines of trade. 
The modern pilgrim road from Damascus to 



274 



PALESTINE 



Mecca, which has taken the place of the old in- 
cense-route, passes indeed a little to the east by 
Ma'an. But to touch Petra involves no great de- 
tour even on this line, and in ancient times, when 
Gaza was the great terminus of the Arabian trade, 
Petra was the place where the Gaza road branched 
off from that to Bosra, Palmyra, and northern 
Syria. The route from Egypt to Damascus is also 
commanded by Petra, and from it, too, there 
went a great route direct through the desert to 
the head of the Persian Gulf. Thus Petra became 
a centre for all the main lines of overland trade 
between the East and the West, and it was not 
till the fall of the Nabatsean kingdom that Pal- 
myra superseded it as the chief emporium of 
north Arabia." 

It is needless to say that all these routes are to- 
day abandoned. The ancient road from Petra to 
the head of the Gulf of Akaba is marked by abun- 
dant ruins of towns and caravan-serais. Strabo 
says that in his day, when many Romans were 
numbered among the inhabitants of the prosper- 
ous city of Petra, a large mart called Leuce-Come 
was located on the east side of the Red Sea near 
its northern end. To this place, he says, "the 
camel-traders travel with ease and safety from 
Petra, and back again, with so large a body of 
men and camels as to differ in no respect from an 
army." At present the whole region is desert, and 
the only water is a few poor little springs. 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 275 

Even more remarkable than the road south- 
ward from Petra is the one eastward across the 
Syrian desert to the head of the Persian Gulf. To- 
day no caravan can possibly cross this desert 
waste seven or eight hundred miles wide. No ex- 
plorer, even, appears to have made the journey. 
The distances from water to water are so great as 
absolutely to preclude the use of this route for 
commercial purposes. Yet in the past it is spoken 
of as a great line of trade. Beyond Ma'an, twenty 
miles east of Petra, the first inhabited spot is Jauf, 
two hundred and fifty miles distant in a straight 
line. The desert between Ma'an and Jauf is so 
waterless that the Arabs almost never traverse it 
except when bent on plunder. Mr. Douglass Car- 
ruthers, of the British Museum, in 1909, was the 
first European to visit the central part of this re- 
gion, although Palgrave had been on the borders 
several years before. Some idea of the aridity of 
the district may be gathered from the conduct of 
an Arab camel dealer whom Mr. Carruthers met 
as he was taking some unloaded camels from 
Teima to Egypt. Rather than traverse the desert 
route to Ma'an, and so to Egypt, the Arab pre- 
ferred to go a hundred miles farther, travelling 
westward to El Wij, and then up the coast to 
Akaba, at the head of the eastern arm of the Red 
Sea. The road to El Wij is mountainous and rough, 
and far more difficult than that to Ma'an, but it 
is better supplied with water. Another evidence 



276 



PALESTINE 



of the aridity of the region is found in the remark 
of an Arab whom I met at Jebel Druze. I asked 
him by what route he would travel to Jauf from 
Ma'an, and he replied: "I should not try to go 
straight across the desert, but should go north 
almost to Sulkhad, and then take the road through 
Kalat Ezrak." That is, rather than cross the dry 
stretch of two hundred and thirty miles by the 
direct route, he would make a detour to the north 
and travel three hundred and fifty miles. 

In spite of the modern difficulties, there can be 
no doubt that the ancient accounts of a caravan 
road from Petra eastward are true; for both Pal- 
grave and Carruthers found evidences of it. At 
Wokh, twenty-five miles east-northeast of Ma'an, 
a well and a ruined village, discovered by Palgrave, 
mark the first stage of the old trade route. To- 
day the village is utterly uninhabited. Thirty 
miles farther to the northeast, at a place called 
Khan Bayer, Mr. Carruthers was taken by his 
Arabs to two wells in the bed of a dry wadi tribu- 
tary to WadrSirhan. There he was captured by 
a raiding party of Beduin, who brought to his 
attention the ruins of an ancient inn. The ruins 
are built of large blocks of cut stone, arranged in 
a square seventy or eighty feet on a side. Their 
size and the care with which the stones were hewn 
show that the place must have been of consider- 
able importance. 

; w The next watering place on the route to Jauf 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 277 



is at Weisit, ninety-five miles distant; but Mr. 
Carruthers surmises that there must be another 
undiscovered well or ruined inn somewhere on 
this part of the ancient road. So far as is known, 
however, this part of the desert is waterless. 

Beyond Weisit, the road follows the Wadi Sir- 
han; and wells are numerous as far as Jauf. Far- 
ther east, however, the route to the Persian Gulf 
appears to be waterless for a hundred miles at a 
stretch. Yet, long ago numerous caravans, car- 
rying goods from the gulf to Egypt, passed this 
way with apparent ease. To-day the only travel- 
lers are occasional Arabs, bound post haste to 
Teima from Damascus, or else raiding parties like 
that which caused Mr. Carruthers to discover the 
ruins of Khan Bayer. Mr. Carruthers is con- 
vinced that the present scarcity of water, and ab- 
sence of travel on this old road, and on others ra- 
diating from Petra, proves that there must have 
been a decrease in the water supply since the days 
of the Romans. Such a change cannot be due to 
the work of man, for human actions have little 
effect on the desert; nature, not man, appears to 
have caused the change. 

Other routes present the same phenomenon, 
although in less striking fashion. For instance, 
formerly a great route ran eastward from Bosra, 
although here, too, from the point of view of com- 
merce, the desert is now impassable. Even the 
northern route through Palmyra is to-day largely 



278 



PALESTINE 



abandoned, although it can still be used in favor- 
able seasons. The abandonment of the various 
routes has proceeded from south to north, from 
the more desert to the less desert regions. Many 
reasons are assigned for the abandonment of the 
successive routes. For instance, the commerce of 
Petra is commonly said to have fallen off during 
the first century of the Christian era because 
of the establishment of a route from Myos Hor- 
mos on the Red Sea to Coptos on the Upper Nile. 
It is quite as probable that the new route was es- 
tablished because the routes converging at Petra 
were becoming so dry that caravans began to 
suffer. 

The drier parts of Palestine, as well as its desert 
borders, contain scores of ruins of large cities to- 
tally uninhabited, or tenanted by a mere handful 
of peasants. The country around the ancient 
cities usually abounds in small ruins, which for- 
merly were prosperous villages. Farther afield 
ancient terraces and walls indicate that the whole 
region was once thickly settled by an agricultural 
people. Petra, Philadelphia, Gerasa, Bosra, and 
Palmyra are among the best-known examples of 
cities whose glory has departed and whose sites 
are left desolate. All of these lie east of Pales- 
tine and Syria proper, on the edge of the desert. 
Petra is absolutely uninhabited. The other four 
are still occupied by a population not a tenth, or 
in some cases a hundredth, as great as that of the 




REPRODUCED FROM " ZEITSCHRIFT DES DEUTSCHEN 
PALESTINAVEREINS,*' VOL. XXV, 1902 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 279 



past. Jerash, the ancient Gerasa, and Amman, 
the former Philadelphia, are the most prosperous 
in modern times. As we approached Jerash on the 
way from Jerusalem to Damascus, it was a plea- 
sure to see wagon roads over which oxcarts with 
two solid wheels were being driven by Circassian 
peasants, who here, as elsewhere, seem to have a 
passion for carts. At the invitation of the Turk- 
ish government the present Circassian inhabit- 
ants of Jerash have settled there at various times 
since 1883, to serve as a protection against plun- 
dering Arabs. Their village is surrounded by 
gardens full of splendid trees, fig, walnut, quince, 
plum, mulberry, and pomegranate, bordered by 
rows of tall poplars. The people themselves are 
pleasant and manly. The girl -wife of our host 
was a real Circassian beauty, who shielded but 
did not conceal her face in a gracefully folded 
white scarf. The whole combination was unusual. 
We had not seen a cart for two months; we had 
been tried almost beyond endurance by cowardly 
or deceitful servants; and beautiful Circassian 
women are as rare in Circassian villages as they 
are common in books. 

The gardens of Jerash and the character of its 
people make it one of the pleasantest towns in 
Palestine. Yet a glance at the ruins or a look at 
the accompanying map shows that the present 
little town of twelve or fifteen hundred people is 
insignificant compared with the ancient city. The 



280 PALESTINE 

map does the old town injustice. If the Roman 
city were mapped in the same way as the modern 
village, it would extend beyond the naumachia 
on the south, and farther than the wall on every 
side. When I asked the Circassians why they did 
not plant more gardens, they replied, "We have 
no more water." The town cannot grow much 
beyond its present size. Yet in the past it must 
have been many times as large. The southern of 
the two theatres is three hundred feet in diameter, 
and would easily seat six times the population of 
the present town. 

The ruins of Jerash are its glory. No one can 
wander among them without being impressed by 
their size and beauty, and by their arid desolation 
contrasted with the luxuriance of the orchards in 
the small space for which the present water sup- 
ply suffices. Think of a colonnaded street over 
half a mile long with almost six hundred lime- 
stone columns bearing finely carved capitals, and 
then add to the picture shorter cross streets simi- 
larly adorned. These were not in some great capi- 
tal, but in an unimportant provincial town which 
bore about the same relation to the Roman Em- 
pire that Little Rock, Arkansas, bears to the 
United States, or Waterford to Great Britain. 
How we should boast if towns such as Augusta, 
Maine, possessed buildings like Trinity Church 
in Boston. Suppose that in Leavenworth, Kan- 
sas, three huge theatres were constructed of solid 



THE CLIMATE OF PALESTINE 281 



limestone, and in addition a naumachia for water 
sports had seats for several thousand people sur- 
rounding a tank 500 feet long and 180 feet wide. 
The Stadium at Harvard and the open-air theatre 
at Berkeley, California, are famous in America, 
but at the beginning of the Christian era build- 
ings of equal magnificence were almost a matter 
of course in the provincial towns of the Roman 
Empire. In eastern Syria, in the space of only 
three hundred miles, four cities, Palmyra, Baalbek, 
Damascus, and Petra, surpassed Jerash in gran- 
deur, while a score of others were embellished with 
buildings of which our greatest cities would be 
proud. 

In the days of Christ other parts of the country 
were equally prosperous. We have seen how ruins 
of thrifty towns extended far to the south of Beer- 
sheba in what is now a desert. En-Gedi is another 
example of the same kind. So, too, are the ruins 
around the Sea of Galilee, those of Petra, and the 
abandoned towns of Moab, of which Ziza may 
stand as the type. It would be easy to name 
others by the actual hundred. Travellers, both 
scientific and unscientific, are prone to say that if 
the present inhabitants would bestir themselves, 
if they would give up their lazy habits, and emu- 
late their predecessors, and if they could be freed 
from the twofold curse of misgovernment on the 
one hand, and Beduin raids on the other, the whole 
country might be restored to its ancient state of 



% 282 PALESTINE 

prosperity. They assume that natural conditions 
have not changed beyond remedy. The facts do 
not support such a conclusion. Nothing that man 
is yet able to do would enable the people of Beer- 
sheba, and still less of Aujeh, to raise good crops 
every year. The soil is unexceptional, the meth- 
ods of agriculture, although not the best, are as 
good as have ever existed in this country. Rain is 
the missing element. The people of Ziza and Kas- 
tal showed a commendable degree of initiative 
and energy when they came to the ruins to settle. 
No amount of energy on their part could have 
raised a crop in 1909, and no amount of engineer- 
ing skill could enable them to obtain water for 
irrigation except at a cost a hundred -fold too 
great. No Arab raids nor difficulties occasioned 
by the government have interfered with Beer- 
sheba and Ziza in recent times. If these are not 
enough, turn to Jerash. By universal consent few 
races excel the Circassians in industry and energy. 
For over a quarter of a century they have lived 
at Jerash, under special favor of the government, 
and with large exemptions from taxation. Yet 
what have they accomplished? If the population 
should increase sufficiently to fill only one of the 
theatres, many of the inhabitants would find them- 
selves face to face with starvation. Irrigation is 
necessary to insure against famine in bad years, 
but no more water can be obtained. The supply 
appears to have decreased permanently. 



CHAPTER XIII 



THE OBSERVATIONS OF AN ARCHAEOLOGIST 

The question of changes of climate touches 
many phases of life. It is of direct concern to the 
geologist, geographer, anthropologist, archaeolo- 
gist, historian, economist, and pathologist. Indi- 
rectly it is intimately related to a dozen other 
fields of study. Inasmuch as ruins are one of the 
chief lines of evidence as to past climatic condi- 
tions, the observations of an archaeologist are of 
especial value. Professor H. C. Butler of Prince- 
ton knows eastern Syria thoroughly. Three expe- 
ditions to the desert borders of the country in 
1899, 1904, and 1909 have given him an unrivalled 
knowledge of the region. His researches have con- 
vinced him that the physical conditions of Syria 
must have altered greatly since the early part of 
the Christian era. In his various writings he has 
mentioned the subject briefly, but has not set 
forth his views systematically, partly for lack of 
time, but chiefly because he has felt that the sub- 
ject lies beyond the province of an archaeologist. 
His interest in the matter is so deep, however, 
that he has voluntarily contributed the facts con- 
tained in this chapter. Intrinsically they are of 
the first importance; but their greatest signifi- 



284 



PALESTINE 



cance lies in the fact that Professor Butler ap- 
proached the subject from the archaeological 
standpoint, and that his views were formed with- 
out reference to those of any one else. 

In the rest of the chapter it will be understood, 
that, in the absence of a direct statement to the 
contrary, the observations and opinions are those 
of Professor Butler. 

The subject which naturally appeals first to 
an archaeologist is architecture. Buildings dating 
from a period antecedent to the Christian era are 
rare in Syria, and may be left out of considera- 
tion. In North Syria, that is, north of Damascus, 
structures of all kinds depended upon wood from 
the first century to the beginning of the seventh, 
but not thereafter. East of Lebanon every house, 
large and small, and even the stables, employed 
large beams, as is shown by holes in the walls. 
Many edifices may have been built largely of 
wood, but these, of course, have entirely disap- 
peared. Only the stone buildings remain, but 
even in these the architect sees clearly that beams 
were employed, some of them being twenty inches 
in diameter. This was true everywhere in North 
Syria, but especially among the mountains north- 
west of Palmyra. To-day the mountains are de- 
void of forests. The only trees are occasional figs, 
oaks, and olives, growing in cisterns or cellars, 
where soil has accumulated deeply and moisture 
is long retained. Buildings left unfinished at the 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 285 



time of the Persian invasion in 610 a. d. show 
that wood was still in use at that time. 

In South Syria, only two hundred miles from the 
wood-using region, another style of architecture 
was developed during the same period. No wood 
was employed in most buildings. A few temples, 
of pure Roman style, contained wooden beams, 
just as did those of the same type elsewhere. In 
private houses, on the contrary, doors, windows, 
and shutters, as well as beams, were actually made 
of stone, even in three - story buildings. Such 
great use of stone could have been possible only 
in a country abounding in rocks such as basalt, 
which breaks into blocks readily adaptable for 
use as beams or doors. The only use of timber was 
in important temples, for which it was probably 
imported from a distance. If wood had been as 
abundant in South Syria as in North, different 
styles of architecture would scarcely have evolved; 
for the inhabitants of both were alike in race and 
culture. Hence it appears that, although both 
parts of the country are now devoid of forests, 
trees must once have been abundant upon the 
mountains of the north. 

In addition to the main conclusion, we may 
draw another from Professor Butler's facts. If 
there has been a change of climate, it has been 
equally great in both parts of Syria, North and 
South, as will appear later more fully. In the one 
case forests have disappeared, in the other they 



286 



PALESTINE 



never existed. Therefore while forests may have 
disappeared because of a change of climate, the 
change cannot have been due to deforestation. 

The next point made by Professor Butler is the 
marked deterioration in agricultural conditions. 
Olive trees probably never existed in South Syria, 
because it was too warm. In the north, however, 
they must have been numerous everywhere, for 
ancient oil presses abound. To-day in the unin- 
habited eastern parts of North Syria, the only 
olive trees are those already mentioned, in old cis- 
terns or cellars. South Syria, by reason of its com- 
paratively level topography and the prevalence 
of volcanic rocks, still possesses great areas of 
highly fertile soil. Nevertheless, much of this is 
not utilized for lack of rain, although ruins testify 
to former extensive cultivation. In North Syria, 
among the limestone hills, the slopes were for- 
merly terraced for orchards or fields. Some of 
the terraces were from ten to twenty-five feet 
high. Now they are broken ; and most of the soil 
has been washed away to the lowlands. In the 
Orontes Valley a part has doubtless gone to fill the 
lakes which once were much larger, and apparently 
more numerous than now. Those at Apameia, 
Antioch, and Tell Nebi Minto, probably Kadesh, 
have been converted into marshes. In the regions 
now inhabited it is noticeable that, whereas in the 
past cultivation prevailed everywhere, now it is 
limited on the^one hand to the tops of ridges 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 287 



which are sufficiently flat to retain enough soil for 
the support of a few olive trees, and on the other, 
to basins where the soil is deep. The washing of 
soil from the hills, a most serious phenomenon in 
all parts of Syria, including Palestine, has a direct 
relation to changes of climate, as will appear more 
clearly in a later chapter. 

The old accusation that the people of Syria are 
lazy and shiftless may be true, but it does not 
explain the absence of cultivation in the vicinity 
of unnumbered ruins. With commendable energy 
the Syrians endeavor to utilize every bit of land 
that will possibly raise crops. In many regions 
they plough and sow year after year, but obtain 
a remunerative return only occasionally. In bad 
years the peasants of the drier districts go to 
Aleppo or Damascus to get work after they find 
that the fields are not destined to yield a harvest 
that year. To the south of Hauran and in the 
northeastern part of Syria toward Aleppo and the 
Euphrates the traveller often comes across villages 
where the grain bins stand empty and the houses 
untenanted. If a villager happens to be at home, 
he says, "Oh, we live here years when there are 
harvests. Other years we go to the cities." Irri- 
gation is out of the question in these places; such 
a thing has never existed, and has never been pos- 
sible in most instances. In good years, however, 
the crops are splendid; and the peasants, having 
no sure means of livelihood, take their chances. 



288 



PALESTINE 



They stake their seed and labor on the possibility 
of a good crop, just as the prospector stakes his 
year's work on the chance of discovering a vein 
of good mineral. Naturally people dependent on 
such precarious means of sustenance are poor, 
unreliable, and thievish, — the worst of the in- 
habitants of Syria. Yet in the past these same 
regions were full of well-built cities inhabited by 
a rich people with a highly developed art. 

The change in the physical conditions of Syria 
is illustrated by the rivers, as well as by archi- 
tecture and agriculture. Syria abounds in dry 
stream-beds, large and small. The winter of 1904- 
05 was the wettest for decades; but, even then, 
scarcely a drop of water flowed in most of the 
channels in the interior of the country. Yet in 
the days of the Romans it was deemed necessary 
to build bridges to span these dry streams. For 
example, at Burak, forty or fifty miles south of 
Bosra, a sturdy bridge stretches its arches across 
a channel of gravel. Farther east in the desert the 
branches of the Wadi Butm and Wadi Rajil, ly- 
ing south of Jebel Hauran at a distance of about 
twenty miles from Sulkhad, are always dry. Yet 
three Roman bridges were built there. In North 
Syria a bridge spans the dry bed of the Dahna, 
thirty miles northeast of Horns. Under present 
conditions so sane a people as the Romans would 
scarcely build bridges in such locations. 

More conclusive than the bridges over dry 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 289 



ground are the spring-houses where no springs 
exist. Professor Butler mentions three. One is at 
Dahna near the bridge last mentioned. Another 
stands among lava at Saleh on the east slope of 
Jebel Hauran, and a third, two or three miles 
southwest of Kanawat in the volcanic mountains 
between that place and Suweida. 

Bathing establishments are quite as dependent 
upon water as are rivers and springs. Large pub- 
lic baths were a notable feature of Roman civili- 
zation, and are still important in many eastern 
lands. In Syria they are scattered from north to 
south, and from the desert to the coast. Many 
are now waterless. One of the most remote is the 
"Hamam" or "Bath" es Serakh in the desert, 
fifty miles south by east of Bosra and thirty miles 
east of the caravan route to Mecca. It does not 
lie near a town or any ruins of a town. Three 
quarters of a mile away on the hilltop stand the 
remains of a fine mosque and of a Roman castle 
which was later used by the Byzantines and by 
the troops of the Ommiad Caliphs. The bath 
was evidently designed for the use of the soldiers 
of the castle. In its present form it was built by 
the Ommiades in the eighth century. It is located 
at the junction of strata of limestone and ba- 
salt, where a spring would appear if the rainfall 
were sufficient. To-day the place is absolutely 
dry. Even in the unusually moist season of 
1904-05 the great well, a hundred feet deep and 



290 



PALESTINE 



eight feet in diameter, was merely a waterless 
hole yawning among the bones of dead beasts in 
a dreary expanse strown with flints. 

Proceeding north, and omitting minor baths, 
the next of importance is at Bosra. It is not one 
establishment, but three, all with huge tanks, and 
with arrangements for hot and cold water. Two 
conduits are preserved, at least a foot wide. The 
location of the Bosra baths is significant; they lie 
in the upper part of the town, many feet higher 
than the modern spring which furnishes the only 
unfailing source of water. They must have been 
supplied from springs which have now disappeared. 
The baths are older than the one at Serakh, for 
they date from the second century after Christ. 
The dates are important, as will appear when we 
attempt to decide between the theories of pro- 
gressive and pulsatory changes of climate. 

Jebel Druze and the Leja contain many ruined 
baths in addition to the one at Bosra. For instance, 
at Sheba, on the southern edge of the Leja, Philip, 
the Arab Emperor of Rome, built a beautiful bath 
about 245 a. d. At present the only water there is 
a pool filled by the rain. The finest bath of all is 
at Sha'ara, at the north end of the rough volcanic 
flows of the Leja. Its date is not known, but it 
was evidently built in Roman times, early in our 
era. Here, too, no sign of running water now ap- 
pears. Another interesting bath is located south 
of the two last mentioned, at Si'a near Kanawat. 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 291 



It lies high on the hills above a Herodian temple 
whose carved grapevines and other arboreal repre- 
sentations cut in stone are supposed to make it 
resemble the Temple at Jerusalem more closely 
than does any other structure whose ruins are 
known. The bath has many conduits, four inches 
in diameter. The source of the water is unknown; 
but the problem of its origin is not so difficult as 
in the other cases, for mountains rise high not far 
away. ( 

The Syrian baths fall into three groups of dif- 
ferent age. At Serakh in the south the bath dates 
from the Mohammedan days of the eighth cen- 
tury. In the Leja and Jebel Druze, including 
Bosra, all of which places are in South Syria, the 
baths were built during the Roman rule of the first 
two or three centuries. In North Syria between 
Damascus and Aleppo, another group belongs to 
the period of the fifth and sixth centuries, when 
Christianity was dominant. The bathing estab- 
lishments of the north occur both in the limestone 
mountains to the west of the main caravan road 
and the rolling basaltic country to the east. 
Among those to the west may be mentioned Ser- 
gilla, Babiska, El Bara, and Mijleya. Others, too 
ruined for recognition, doubtless exist. All are to- 
day waterless. East of the road, in a desert plain 
of fine soil some forty or fifty miles wide, lie the 
notable ruins of Ilandarin, about fifty miles north- 
west of Horns. To-day no village exists there. The 



292 



PALESTINE 



nearest water is found at a well two hours to the 
west. Yet once Ilandarin was a large city, walled, 
and containing at least ten churches, whose ruins 
are still visible. At one end of the town stood a 
great reservoir, and a mile away at the other some 
barracks. Between the two a large bath was 
located higher than the reservoir. It must have 
received its water from some other source, now 
utterly lost. On the bath the donor carved an in- 
scription: "This bath I, Thomas, acting again for 
the sake of all, have given to all property holders, 
presenting this remembrance. What is the name 
of the bath? Health. , Through this entering, 
Christ hath opened for us the bath of healing." 
No date is given, but in 559 a. d., according to 
another inscription, this same Thomas presented 
barracks to Ilandarin. The city proper covered 
an area about three fifths of a mile long by a third 
of a mile wide. The surrounding area is thickly 
strown with ruins, so that the whole city was 
about a mile square. At the lowest estimate the 
population must have been twenty thousand, and 
it may have been nearly one hundred thousand. 
To-day the nearest water is a well six miles away! 

In order to show the wide distribution and 
abundance of phenomena like those of Ilandarin, 
Professor Butler calls attention to the condition 
of three ruined sites in South Syria. Bosra, to 
which frequent reference has been made, lies over 
a hundred and fifty miles south of Ilandarin. The 




FIFTH-CENTURY CHURCH AT HAWARIN, MADE FROM THE 
RUINS OF ANCIENT TEMPLES 



i 



] ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 293 



walled area of the ancient city was nearly four 
thousand feet long by three thousand wide. 
Houses extended much beyond these limits, so 
that the total area was fully a mile square. The 
present disconsolate village has an area of only 
about twelve hundred by seven hundred and 
fifty feet. In other words, the present village has 
an area less than one eighth as great as that 
within the ancient walls, and a twenty-fifth as 
great as that of the whole ancient city. The 
modern population, including those who come in 
to be near water in the dry season, numbers in the 
neighborhood of fifteen hundred, certainly not 
over two thousand, or from sixty to ninety per 
acre. At the same rate of density the ancient 
city must have had from thirty-five thousand to 
fifty-five thousand inhabitants. Probably it had 
more, for cities are usually more densely popu- 
lated than villages. The hippodrome alone, with 
a length of approximately fourteen hundred and 
fifty feet and a width of about four hundred and 
thirty feet, had a seating capacity of fully twenty- 
five thousand. The theatre, two hundred and 
fifty feet in diameter, could seat eight or nine 
thousand people on its thirty-five banks of seats. 
The modern water supply would be utterly inad- 
equate for the busy, prosperous city of ancient 
times. Most years the whole town now drinks 
from a single spring, although in favorable seasons 
another bubbles up in the naumachia. 



294 



PALESTINE 



To the south of Bosra the ruins of Um ed Jemal 
occupy an area of about two thousand three hun- 
dred by one thousand six hundred feet inside the 
walls. If the inhabitants were distributed with 
the same density as those of modern villages, they 
must have numbered from five thousand to seven 
thousand within the walls, and several thousand 
outside. Even in the moist year 1904 the wells 
among the ruins were dry, although, for a few 
months, water stood in pools on the surface. In 
the dry spring of 1909 the nearest water was 
twenty miles away. Agriculture is of course im- 
possible here. Yet, in the past, the wealth of the 
cultivated lands roundabout must have been the 
mainstay of the town. 

The town of Amman, fifty miles southwest of 
Bosra, has already been referred to. It is the an- 
cient Philadelphia, and lies in Ammon between 
Moab and Gilead, upon the line of the Mecca 
railroad. For the past twenty-five or thirty years 
the town has flourished under the best of condi- 
tions, so far as man is concerned. The inhabit- 
ants are Circassians, whose industry and energy 
are as great in Amman as in Jerash or elsewhere. 
All of them, on first settling, were allowed ten 
years' exemption from taxes. Even now the offi- 
cials dare not make such exactions as they make 
upon the poor Fellahin, for the fiery Circassians 
would become unpleasantly resentful. During 
the past decade the place has experienced the 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 295 



boom which commonly accompanies railroad 
building. Almost from the first coming of the Cir- 
cassian, Amman has been well protected against 
the raids of Arabs. Therefore it has had an op- 
portunity to grow to its maximum size; but the 
size is strictly limited by the water supply. The 
entire population depends upon a single spring, 
which wells up in a pool forty or fifty feet in di- 
ameter, and upon a wadi which contains a flow- 
ing stream except in the dry season. These 
sources of water, like those of Jerash, irrigate gar- 
dens which form the main source of livelihood of 
the inhabitants. Now that the workmen on the 
railway are gone, the population does not exceed 
two thousand, and is probably less. The old town, 
dating from the early part of the Christian era, 
covers seven times as much space as the modern 
one. Its theatre, nearly three hundred feet in 
diameter, was constructed with forty-five rows 
of seats, and held twelve thousand people. 

The facts cited by Professor Butler present so 
strong a case that I shall omit the description of 
many other ruins presenting the same phenomena. 
One point, however, deserves further emphasis. 
As Professor Butler points out, the ancient baths 
are particularly important. They were pure luxu- 
ries. They demanded a large and constant sup- 
ply of running water. They wasted the water at 
a rate most extravagant unless conditions were 
entirely different from those of to-day. Thomas, 



296 



PALESTINE 



of Ilandarin, would F never have presented his bath 
to the city, unless the twenty thousand or more 
inhabitants had been provided with plenty of 
water for household uses, and some had been run- 
ning to waste. The present scarcity of water is 
sometimes explained on the assumption that un- 
derground sources mayliave changed their course, 
leaving the old towns dry. The universality of the 
phenomena of desiccation precludes such a view. 
If the water of Ilandarin, for 'example, were as 
abundant now as formerly, it would inevitably 
reach the surface in some part of the large plain. 
It does not do so. The only possible conclusion 
seems to be that the amount of moisture supplied 
by rain has much diminished. 

The contrast between dry years and moist 
years in arid regions is extraordinary. To one 
who has not seen it, or to one who has seen only 
the irrigated portions of such regions, the differ- 
ence in the amount of desert vegetation from 
year to year is almost incredible. Professor But- 
ler's three journeys in eastern Syria well illus- 
trate the matter. In North Syria the autumn 
of 1899 was drier than usual, but in December 
rain fell so heavily that the Princeton party, with 
Professor Butler at its head, was obliged to give 
up field-work. On the march of eighteen days 
from Birejik on the Euphrates through Horns to 
Tripoli, and then down the Syrian coast to Bei- 
rut, rain fell daily. At the Dog River the excep- 



ARCH.EOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 297 

tional floods carried away the railroad and wagon 
bridges, but not the Roman bridge. The rest of the 
winter was rainy. In the spring the grass within 
some of the uninhabited ruins of North Syria was 
waist high. Before pictures of several walls could 
be taken, the vegetation had to be threshed 
down. Nevertheless on the hills, and in all places 
except enclosed courtyards or other protected 
spots with deep soil, vegetation was limited to a 
sparse growth of grass in small wisps and to a few 
rare bits of scrub. In April, on a new route through 
the formerly inhabited country between Aleppo 
and Palmyra, the desert was perfectly dry. 
Thirty camels were required to carry water. One 
well, on which the guide counted, was dry. He 
had been there in 1888, after a series of good 
years, and had found water. Both in North Syria 
and in South Syria, however, especially in the 
Hauran, the crops were excellent. Rain fell so 
late in the season that in early May on the way 
from Damascus to the Leja the pack animals were 
mired. In the deep volcanic soil of the Leja weeds 
grew riotously. The people welcomed Professor 
Butler joyfully, saying, "You have brought us 
good crops." In a word, so far as the districts 
now under cultivation were concerned, the sea- 
son of 1899-1900 was decidedly propitious, yet it 
was not sufficiently rainy to rehabilitate all of the 
regions which once were inhabited. 

The years from 1899 to 1904 were on the whole 



298 



PALESTINE 



prosperous. The season of 1904-05 was uncom- 
monly rainy. From the middle of September for 
nine months until the middle of June water was 
abundant everywhere, even far out in the desert. 
The Princeton party of that winter never carried 
water, and used no camels for transport, nothing 
but horses and mules. They went out into the 
barren Harra, or volcanic tract forty miles east of 
Jebel Hauran, and found water in old cisterns and 
wells, and even in lakes. The great Arab tribes 
of the desert did not move in toward the culti- 
vated areas, as they commonly do in the dry sea- 
son. The Beduin of the Hauran and Belka, which 
is the modern name of the rolling plains of Moab, 
also remained farther to the east than usual, well 
beyond the limits of cultivation. Every lamb 
lived. The goats were full of milk. The Arabs 
were widely scattered because water and grass 
were abundant everywhere, and there was no 
object in crowding together at a few permanent 
wells. Every one was busy with the flocks and 
herds, and happy in the abundance of food. The 
temptation to raid and plunder was removed. No 
raids of any importance took place that year. The 
only disturbances of the peace were a few quarrels 
because the number of sheep was so great, and a 
fight between the Beduin, who feed the sheep of 
the Druzes, and the people of the Belka, or plains 
of Moab. 

Snow, as well as rain, was uncommonly abun- 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 299 



dant in the winter of 1904-05. On December 2 
two feet of snow fell at Tarba at an elevation of 
4500 feet on the east side of Jebel Hauran where 
Professor Butler was working. It covered all of 
Jebel Hauran, but not the surrounding low coun- 
try. On Christmas Day three feet of snow fell 
at Mellah is Serrar, on the east of Jebel Hauran, 
and remained for weeks. It extended south from 
the mountains and covered the plateau. South 
of Um ed Jemal, at the end of January, it was so 
deep as to prevent the horses of the Princeton 
Expedition from grazing. 

In North Syria the conditions were like those 
of South Syria. Little rain fell in March, April, 
and May, 1905, but the country was full of water 
from the snow of the three preceding months. 
Among the ruins where the herbage was so rank 
in 1900, conditions similar to those of that year 
prevailed. Then, however, the cisterns were 
empty, and grass was scarce. Now, after a series 
of comparatively propitious years, the cisterns 
were full, and the grass was everywhere so abun- 
dant that Turkoman nomads moved in, with 
goats, horses, and other animals. All the live- 
stock grew fat. People from Aleppo sent out 
horses to pasture. The desert had become a most 
delightful country. Water and herbage did not 
fail even in the summer. On the mountains of 
Jebel el A'alla, east of the Orontes River, showers 
continued to fall in June, and the ground was so 



300 



PALESTINE 



wet that the animals of the Princeton caravan 
were mired. 

We have already seen that the conditions of the 
spring of 1909 were very different from those of 
preceding years. In the region south of Um ed 
Jemal, that is, forty or fifty miles south of Bosra, 
where the snow prevented the horses from graz- 
ing in 1905, the cisterns remained full for months 
during the succeeding season. In 1909, in the same 
region, Professor Butler found no water what- 
ever in most places. Even the railroad stations 
were waterless. At Samrah Station it was neces- 
sary to send two hours to the west for water. At 
II Fedan Station the nearest supply was at Nasib 
Station, five hours to the north, due west of Bosra. 
There the Wadi Zedi contained running water 
from the snows of Jebel Hauran, but the rainfall 
had been too scanty to fill the cisterns. The vil- 
lagers were drawing water from the wadi in March 
and April, and carrying it up to the cisterns for 
summer use. 

Because of the drought the great tribes from 
the interior swarmed over the grainfields of Hau- 
ran. Not far from where the horses pawed the 
snow in 1905, the Princeton party in March, 1909, 
camped at a place called Koseir el Halabat. In 
scouring the country roundabout for a chance 
pool of drinking water for the thirsty horses, Pro- 
fessor Butler's men noticed hundreds of storks 
and cranes flying toward a certain spot. There 



ARCHAEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 301 



they found a pool of clear water, about two hun- 
dred feet long, twenty wide, and three deep. 1 The 
next day at about half -past eight in the morning, 
one of the great desert tribes came streaming in 
from the southeast. Thousands and thousands of 
camels passed by. Far as the eye could see they 
stretched away into the wilderness. Scattered at 
intervals of one or two hundred feet they stalked 
by, hundreds abreast, bending their sinuous necks 
and sticking out their tongues to crop a bit of dry 
bush from ground which looked absolutely barren. 
For fully nine hours/till half -past four, the monster 
procession continued to pass. When the horses of 
the archaeologists were taken to the pool that night, 
nothing remained except a muddy hollow, tram- 
pled by the feet of ten thousand camels. The 
beasts passed on toward Gilead and Galilee. Pass- 
ing through southern Hauran, they ate the grain- 
fields to dust, even as they had drunk the pool to 
slimy mud. The poor villagers shot at the Arabs, 
and then ran to their villages for shelter, much as 
the people of old Edrei probably did when they 
took refuge in their caves and passageways. Sol- 
diers were sent to stop the Arabs, but in vain. 
Most of the grain eaten by the camels would not 
have ripened in any case, but the people were 
planning to cut it for fodder. In the higher re- 
gions where the crops ripen later, the rains which 
we experienced at Beersheba in the latter half of 
April came in time to save the wheat. The same 



302 



PALESTINE 



was true in the moister parts of the Hauran, but 
in the drier districts the drought and the Arabs 
vied with] one another in preparing the way for 
famine. 

All over Syria conditions were the same. The 
quarrels between Arabs and Fellahin on the bor- 
ders of Judea, the large number of gunshot eases 
in the hospital at Hebron, the raids which we ex- 
perienced beside the Dead Sea and in Moab were 
all due largely to the drought. East of Jebel Hau- 
ran and of Damascus, in regions which Professor 
Butler traversed with ease in 1905, neither love 
nor money would persuade any one to accompany 
me as guide. Every one was in mortal terror of 
the raids of the great tribes, which had been forced 
in by the drought. Farther south, when I tried 
to go east from Ziza, I was told that the whole 
country was unoccupied for lack of water. Far 
to the north, on the way to Palmyra, we found 
the Arabs rampant everywhere. If a single year 
of drought can create such sad conditions, what 
would be the effect of a permanent change from 
conditions such as prevailed in 1905 to those 
of 1909? 



CHAPTER XIV 



THE FLUCTUATIONS OF THE DEAD SEA 

The former population of Palestine, the distri- 
bution of forests, the routes of ancient traffic, and 
the location of ruins all point to one conclusion. 
A change appears to have taken place in the cli- 
mate of Palestine. Of the four climatic hypothe- 
ses illustrated on page 252, those of uniformity 
and deforestation seem to ;be excluded. We are 
left to choose between those of progressive and 
pulsatory changes. Before attempting to decide 
between the two, let us examine the history of the 
Dead Sea. Such a'lake, having no outlet, serves as 
an enormous rain gauge. Inasmuch as the waters 
of the Jordan, Yarmuk, Jabbok, Arnon, and other 
chief feeders of the sea have never been employed 
for irrigation, the rise and fall of the lake is con- 
trolled entirely by natural causes. Hence we may 
use the Dead Sea as a measuring-rod by which 
first to test the conclusions derived from other 
lines of evidence, and then to decide between the 
two theories still before us. 

All students of the Dead Sea agree that its level 
has fluctuated greatly in past times, and that it 
fluctuates somewhat to-day. The past fluctua- 
tions are recorded in a series of old strands; the 



304 



.PALESTINE 



present are a matter of actual observation. The 
question for us to solve is whether any of the old 
strands date from historic times. The strands fall 
into two classes, major and minor. The major lie 
two hundred and fifty or more feet above the pre- 
sent level of the water, the minor at lesser alti- 
tudes. The elevations of the major strands above 
the present level of the Dead Sea are approxi- 
mately as follows: 1430, 540, 430, 300, and 250 
feet. Further study may alter these figures some- 
what, but that will not affect the conclusions to be 
drawn from them. At its greatest extent the sea 
stretched at least thirty miles south of its present 
termination. Northward it probably covered the 
Sea of Galilee and the Waters of Merom, and sent 
an arm into the Vale of Jezreel. This is not proved, 
however, for no deposits of the Dead Sea appear to 
have been recognized at high levels either around 
the Sea of Galilee or in the Vale of Jezreel. In the 
Jordan Valley, just south of the Sea of Galilee, 
they abound. Five miles down the J ordan from the 
lake, or about one mile north of Jisr el Mujamia, as 
the modern railroad bridge is called, a tilted series 
of dark clays, apparently lacustrine, lies under 
untilted whitish clays, also apparently lacustrine. 
The elevation here is about eight hundred and 
forty feet below the Mediterranean Sea, or four 
hundred and fifty above the Dead Sea. Possibly 
the older clays were deposited when the lake stood 
at the f ourteen-hundred-and-thirty-f oot level, and 



THE DEAD SEA 305 



the younger ones when it stood at five hundred 
and forty feet. If this is so, the northern part of 
the Ghor must have suffered movement since the 
time when the water expanded most widely. Fur- 
ther study of this matter will probably explain 
why deposits of the Dead Sea have not been rec- 
ognized at high levels above the Sea of Galilee 
and in the Vale of Jezreel. 

For our present purposes the northern portion 
of the Ghor may be ignored. In the neighbor- 
hood of the modern Dead Sea no great movement 
seems to have affected the earth's crust since the 
time of the fourteen-hundred-and-thirty-foot ex- 
pansion, as is evident from the fact that, so far as 
can be detected by aneroid, the highest deposits 
lie at approximately the same elevation on all 
sides of the lake. Hence we may study the strands 
without reference to crustal movements. This 
being so, the cliffs and benches and beaches formed 
by the lake at various times clearly indicate a 
great decrease in area and in the amount of water 
supplied by the rivers. There is no reason to be- 
lieve that any important tributaries have been 
diverted from the lake. Hence the change must 
be climatic. The oldest strand, by common con- 
sent, represents the conditions prevalent during 
the glacial period. The other strands in all prob- 
ability date from the stages of glacial retreat, well 
known in Europe. The advance of the ice in Eu- 
rope and North America was due to the preva- 



306 



PALESTINE 



lence of climatic conditions much moister or colder 
than those of to-day. Non-glaciated regions were 
likewise subjected to a more rigorous climate. In 
Palestine the rainfall was so great or the evapora- 
tion so slight that the Dead Sea expanded enor- 
mously. The change from the extreme climatic 
conditions of the last glacial epoch to those of the 
present post-glacial or possibly inter-glacial epoch 
did not progress uniformly. On the contrary it 
was interrupted by the post-glacial stages already 
referred to. At each stage the climate for a time 
ceased to become warmer and drier, and probably 
changed somewhat in the opposite direction. Ac- 
cordingly the glaciers of northern lands not only 
ceased to melt away, but advanced. At the same 
time lakes like the Dead Sea ceased to contract, 
and expanded a little, or at least remained at the 
same level. At such periods the strands at eleva- 
tions of five hundred and forty, four hundred and 
thirty, three hundred, and two hundred and fifty 
feet were formed on the shores of the Dead Sea. 

As indicators of the lapse of time from stage to 
stage, the phenomena of the post-glacial moraines 
of Europe agree with the amount of weathering 
upon the bluffs and beaches of the various strands 
of the Dead Sea. All point to the conclusion that 
the interval from the height of the last glacial 
epoch to the height of the first post-glacial stage 
was greater than from the first stage to the sec- 
ond. The next interval, from the second stage to 



THE DEAD SEA 307 

the third, appears to have been, if anything, still 
shorter, and so on. For the sake of argument, 
however, let us suppose that the intervals have all 
been equal. In that case we may divide post-gla- 
cial time into five portions of equal length. The 
lapse of time since the culmination of the last gla- 
cial epoch is estimated by some geologists at fifty 
or sixty thousand years, while others bring the 
figures down to ten thousand. The average of the 
various estimates amounts to twenty-five or thirty 
thousand. If we divide post-glacial time into 
five equal parts, we get results varying from two 
to twelve thousand years, with five or six as the 
average of the best determinations. This would 
represent the age of the two-hundred-and-fifty- 
foot strand, were it not that the intervals from 
stage to stage have decreased in length. To put 
the age of the two-hundred-and-fifty-foot strand 
at not more than five or six thousand years is 
therefore conservative. This places it close to 
the dawn of history. It may, of course, be 
younger. 

The significance of the dates just given be- 
comes apparent fromji study\)f the minor strands. 
They are of the same type as the others, but 
smaller and more recent. They can be detected 
on all sides of the sea, but are especially notable 
near the Tombs of the Kings south of Jericho. 
On the whole they diminish in size from the older 
to the younger. They have been strangely neg- 



308 



PALESTINE 



lected by students of geology and geography. 
So far as I can ascertain, Dr. Masterman, a phy- 
sician of Jerusalem, is the only author who has 
paid much attention to them. In connection with 
valuable observations upon the present fluctua- 
tions of the Dead Sea, he has examined some of 
the lower strands. From the observations of early 
travellers he infers that within the last century 
the level of the sea has varied nearly twenty feet. 
His final conclusion is that "it is highly probable 
that if such a change can occur during so short 
a time, these beaches may mark old sea-levels 
within historic times." 

Stimulated by Dr. Masterman's observations, 
I investigated the minor strands as carefully as 
time allowed, and made a series of soundings to 
ascertain the topography of the floor of the sea. 
As a result, I discovered strands at the following 
levels: 210, 170, 145, 115, 90, 70, 55, 40, 30, and 
12 feet above the level of the water in March, 
1909. The 30-foot strand is doubtful. All the 
figures are in the nature of generalizations, for 
a single elevation may represent several little 
strands. For example, measurements with a hand 
level gave the altitude of the beaches at one place 
near the northeast corner of the sea as 38, 43, 
and 40 feet, and at another as 43. Aneroid deter- 
minations elsewhere gave 41 and 44 feet. These 
have been grouped as the 40-foot beach. Simi- 
larly the altitude of the 70-foot beach is deduced 



THE DEAD SEA 309 



from nine observations ranging from 65 to 79 feet. 
Apparently the sea has always been subject to 
small fluctuations like those of the present day. 
During the past century the fluctuation has been 
at least twelve feet. Beaches just above the pre- 
sent water line indicate that not many decades 
ago the sea may have stood three or four feet 
above the level at which we saw it. Dead palms 
and tamarisks standing in the water prove that 
in the seventies the level was at least eight feet 
lower than now, for trees could never take root 
in the bitter brine. 

The amount of erosion of the lower beaches is 
far less than of the upper. The lower, as Dr. 
Masterman says, cannot be of great age, or they 
would have suffered much more change than they 
show. Moreover the upper strands are more pro- 
nounced than the lower, and must have required 
a correspondingly long period of formation. To 
produce them the sea must have stood at the 
various levels several hundred years. The lower 
strands must all have been formed within the six 
thousand years, more or less, since the cutting of 
the 250-foot strand. Ten strands such as those 
below the 250-foot level could not possibly have 
been formed without the lapse of a long period. 
From the beaches themselves it is useless to at- 
tempt to calculate the length of time required for 
their formation. It is manifest, however, that if 
the lowest major strand is only six thousand years 



310 



PALESTINE 



old, the formation of those below it must have 
fallen within historic times. 

Two other lines of evidence, highly diverse, 
point to the conclusion that during historic times 
the Dead Sea has stood higher than now. One 
line is Biblical criticism; the other is the lakes 
of distant parts of Asia. M. Clermont-Ganneau, 
one of the most competent Biblical critics, has 
written an able article entitled "Where was the 
Mouth of the Jordan at the Epoch of Joshua?" 
The line of argument is so different from that usu- 
ally followed in discussions as to changes of cli- 
mate, and appears so sound that a resume of it 
may well be given here. The conclusion is that 
in the fifth or sixth century b. c, when the Book of 
Joshua was finally edited in its present form, the 
mouth of the Jordan River was not far from the 
site of the ancient convent of St. John the Baptist, 
represented in our day by the ruins of Kasr el 
Yahud. This is about four and a half miles above 
the present mouth. The Jordan now enters the 
Dead Sea at a point almost due east of Jerusalem, 
while Kasr el Yahud lies in a direction about 
fourteen degrees north of east, as can be readily 
seen on the sketch map on the next page. 

The Book of Joshua contains two specific state- 
ments of the exact location of the northern border 
of the tribe of Judah. In one the limits of the 
patrimony of Judah are described as follows 
(Joshua xv, 2-6): "And their south border was 



THE DEAD SEA 311 



from the uttermost part of the Salt Sea [that is, 
the Dead Sea], from the bay [Hebrew, tongue] 
that looketh southward." From here the south- 
ern border extended westward to the Mediter- 
ranean Sea. "And the east border was the Salt 



OJEERTTQRY-OF Y*. 

"BENJAMIN Wl 1 
Aflt«aip±m o . , " ( ^A\ B 

Jerusalem. jr*~ 


ETSgTa 

athing:Elace 


a? / 




a ( 7 

: J * 




A En GedjJ ^ 

° / / 


«-«»- -f Nbtfhejri bdTrnaary of Jndah 
i ... Horfhetri bonndary of Judah, if 
pead Sea:s?ood at present level. 
— Shore?ofJ5ead.Sea.in.days of 
Book. aLJoshua-, 


: -op 




» } 

p \ • i 
* \ Q ) 

f \ y 









FlGUBE 4. 



The Dead Sea and the Ancient Boundary of Judah, after Clermont- 
Ganneau. 

Sea, even unto the end of Jordan. And the bor- 
der of the north quarter was from the bay [tongue] 
of the sea at the end of the Jordan; and the border 
went up to Beth-hoglah, and passed along by the 
north of Beth-arabah"; and thence through va- 
rious points past Jerusalem to the Mediterranean. 
The other description of the northern border of Ju- 
dah is found in the eighteenth chapter of Joshua, 



312 



PALESTINE 



where it is described as the southern border of 
Benjamin which, of course, was coterminous with 
Judah. The description is given from west to 
east, instead of from east to west, as in the first 
case. Verse 18 says that after leaving Jerusalem 
the border "passed along to the side over against 
the Arabah northward, and went down unto the 
Arabah; and the border passed along to the side 
of Beth-hoglah northward; and the goings out of 
the border were at the north bay [tongue] of the 
Salt Sea, at the south end of the Jordan: this was 
the south border. And the Jordan was the border 
of it on the east quarter.' ' 

Practically every one agrees that Beth-hoglah 
is the modern Kasr Hajleh, which still preserves 
the old name almost unchanged. This, together 
with other identifications, fixes the boundary 
between Judah and Benjamin from Jerusalem to 
Beth-hoglah with great exactness. It has been 
commonly assumed that after running nearly due 
east and west across the plateau to the Ghor, the 
boundary suddenly turned to the south-south- 
east at Beth-hoglah, and ran in that direction for 
about five miles to the mouth of the Jordan. This 
seems hardly possible. In the first place it would 
be highly unnatural to assign to Benjamin a small 
useless corner jutting into the territory of Judah. 
In the second place in so minute a description as 
that of Joshua a sudden change in direction to the 
extent of almost ninety degrees would surely be 



THE DEAD SEA 



313 



mentioned, for other changes of less importance 
are carefully recorded. Finally neither end of the 
Dead Sea now presents any feature answering to 
the oft-mentioned bay or tongue. If, however, 
the water stood higher than now, it would reach 
Kasr el Yahud. In that case the boundary be- 
tween the tribes would run on in the same general 
direction both to east and west of Beth-hoglah. 
On either side of the Jordan the cliffs of the 
seventy-foot strand, and likewise of the fifty -five- 
foot, converge in such a manner that if the Sea 
rose to the foot of the cliffs its northern end 
would assume the form of a deep pointed bay, 
which might well be called a tongue. In the case 
of the seventy-foot strand the tip of the tongue 
would be not far from Beth-hoglah. Clermont- 
Ganneau, being unfamiliar with the minute topo- 
graphy of the region, supposes that the sea stood 
three hundred feet higher than now. So great a 
rise is unnecessary. Even at the one-hundred-and- 
seventy-foot level the lake extended well up the 
Ghor beyond the present bridge seven miles above 
Beth-hoglah. The pebbly beach formed at this 
level can be plainly seen high above the river on 
the plain southwest of the bridge. If we substi- 
tute a level of seventy feet above the present Dead 
Sea for the three hundred of Clermont-Ganneau, 
his conclusion seems to accord with the Book of 
Joshua on the one hand, and the topography of 
the Dead Sea and its strands on the other. 



314 



PALESTINE 



The change in the location of the mouth of the 
Jordan cannot be due merely to the deposition of 
a delta. If that were the case, the deltaic portion 
would of necessity be almost flat. Hence the 
river would flow slowly, and would not be able to 
cut deeply below the general surface. As a mat- 
ter of fact the slope is comparatively steep. The 
Jordan at its mouth flows so swiftly that when 
we attempted to row across it we were carried 
hundreds of yards down stream, and found it al- 
most impossible to make a landing. Because of 
the steep descent, the stream has cut a broad, 
deep inner channel, as may be plainly seen below 
Beth-hoglah. All the old strands in the imme- 
diate vicinity, and also all the ruins, lie on the ter- 
race above the present river-bottom, which indi- 
cates that the inner valley or channel has been 
carved by the stream since the level of the Dead 
Sea was lowered. 

The position of Jericho and its well-known ex- 
istence for more than three thousand years close 
to the Dead Sea have sometimes been supposed 
to preclude the possibility of any great expansion 
of that body of water. As a matter of fact Jericho 
lies between five hundred and six hundred feet 
above the present level of the sea. If the sea rose 
two or three hundred feet it would still be four 
or five miles from Jericho at the nearest point. 
Not a single ruin, so far as is known, is located 
at such an altitude as to preclude a decidedly 



THE DEAD SEA 315 



higher stand of the Dead Sea during Biblical times. 
In this connection another point deserves atten- 
tion. The location of the fords where the invading 
Israelites crossed after the division of the water 
at the behest of Joshua has been much discussed. 
Still greater interest attaches to the identification 
of the site where Jesus was baptized by John. The 
Dead Sea, as we shall shortly perceive, appears 
to have stood higher than now, not only when 
the Book of Joshua was written, but also in the 
days of Christ. This being so, it is hopeless to at- 
tempt to identify sites. The Jordan now flows at 
the bottom of a broad valley cut by the stream 
itself in the soft lacustrine deposits which consti- 
tute the floor of the Ghor. These deposits form 
terraces on either side of the inner valley, low 
near the sea, but over a hundred feet high near 
the bridge. All the material which once filled the 
space between the terraces has been excavated 
since the level of the sea fell. In the days of 
Joshua and Jesus, the river flowed scores of feet 
above its present level. The old fords had no con- 
nection with those of to-day. 

Nevertheless a point such as the bathing-place, 
to be referred to later, has doubtless retained es- 
sentially its present location for at least sixteen 
hundred years, as is proved by its relation to the 
ruins of Kasr el Yahud. 

As further evidence of the former condition of 
the Dead Sea, Clermont- Ganncau quotes a re- 



316 



PALESTINE 



mark of the pilgrim Daniel, a Russian who visited 
the Holy Land in 1106-07 a. d. After having 
spoken of the convent of St. John the Baptist, the 
Kasr el Yahud of our day, and the place where 
Jesus was baptized in the Jordan, the pilgrim 
adds : — 

"The Jordan went to this place, but seeing its 
creator approach to receive baptism, it left its bed 
and turned back affrighted. Formerly the Sea of 
Sodom extended clear to the place of baptism ; but to- 
day it is distant about four versts. The sea, seeing 
the Lord enter into the midst of the waters of Jor- 
dan, fled in terror and the Jordan drew back, as 
the Prophet says." 

Four versts are equal to three miles, which is 
somewhat less than the present distance of over 
four miles. Possibly the sea was a little higher 
in the twelfth century than now; possibly the Rus- 
sian pilgrim did not get the distance quite right; 
or perhaps the location of the bathing-place fre- 
quented by pilgrims has shifted slightly because 
of the meandering of the river. The essential 
point is that at the time of Christ, according to 
the legend, the sea stood decidedly higher than 
at the time of Daniel's visit, eleven centuries later. 

The facts thus far cited prove merely that 
the level of the Dead Sea was higher in the past 
than at present, and hence that the climate of 
Palestine was moister. They prove nothing as to 
whether the change was progressive or pulsatory. 



THE DEAD SEA 317 



We now come to certain facts which bear directly 
on this latter problem. 

Clermont-Ganneau has not taken account of 
the possibility that the level of the Dead Sea may 
have fluctuated. He assumes that the water has 
fallen gradually. Therefore he is puzzled by two 
statements dating from the fourth and sixth cen- 
turies, and dismisses them as mistakes. In the 
itinerary of the Bordeaux Pilgrim, written by an 
Aquitanian in 333 a. d., we find the following: 
"From Jericho to the Dead Sea is nine [Roman] 
miles. The water itself is intensely bitter, so that 
there are no fish whatever, nor any boats; and if 
a man put himself in it to swim, the water itself 
turns him over. Thence to the Jordan where the 
Lord was baptized by John is five miles. In that 
place there is a site above the river, a little hill on 
that bank, where Elijah was carried up to heaven." 

At present the distance from Jericho to the 
Dead Sea, which the Pilgrim gives as nine miles, 
is only six and a quarter, or, by the road, seven; 
while from the sea, where ordinarily visited, to 
the bathing-place of the Jordan, is four miles, or 
by the road nearly four and a half, as against the 
five of the Pilgrim. In general the distances given 
in the itinerary are quite accurate, and the pre- 
sumption is that those here given are equally cor- 
rect. 

The work of Gregory of Tours, entitled "De 
Gloria Marty rum," contains an excellent account 



318 



PALESTINE 



of the Jordan River which evidently was based on 
sources much fuller than the account of the Bor- 
deaux Pilgrim. After speaking of the two streams 
which unite to form the Jordan, Gregory says 
that the river "flows to Jericho and farther," and 
that the bathing-place where lepers are healed 
lies at a point where the river returns upon itself. 
"Five miles below this point the Jordan throws 
itself into the Dead Sea, where it loses its name. 
This sea is called the Dead Sea because it has been 
stirred up by the burning of Sodom and the other 
cities, and its waters are made heavy by a mix- 
ture of asphalt." 

Gregory of Tours lived from 540 to 594 A. D. 
Possibly he took his figures from the Bordeaux 
Pilgrim, his predecessor by over two hundred 
years. If so, his statement merely confirms the 
conclusion that three centuries after Christ the 
Dead Sea stood as low or possibly a trifle lower 
than now. In Gregory's day, however, the level 
cannot have been markedly higher than now. If 
it had been, he would surely have corrected the 
statement of his fellow countryman, for the bath- 
ing-place and the Dead Sea were known famil- 
iarly to every pilgrim. If we accept the Book of 
Joshua and the accounts of the Pilgrims exactly 
as they stand, it appears that five centuries be- 
fore Christ the climate of Palestine was such that 
the Dead Sea stood about seventy feet higher 
than now. At the time of Christ the level was 



THE DEAD SEA 319 

still high. At the beginning of the fourth cen- 
tury a. d., and possibly at the end of the sixth, the 
climate had become so dry that the water stood 
no higher, or perhaps even lower than at present. 
At the opening of the twelfth century slightly 
moister conditions may possibly have once more 
prevailed, for Daniel the Russian apparently 
found the sea nearer to the bathing-place than 
the accounts of his predecessors would indicate. 

A comparison of the dates of the various stages 
of the Dead Sea with those of the baths described 
by Professor Butler enables us to choose between 
the theories of progressive and pulsatory change. 
Omitting earlier conditions, let us repeat the 
dates from the time of Christ onward, putting 
them in tabular form. 

30 a. d. Baptism of Christ. The sea stood high. 

150-250 a. d. Many baths in Bosra, Hauran, 
etc. Moist conditions. 

333 a. d. The Dead Sea stood as low as now. 
A dry era. 

550-560 a. d. Thomas built a bath at Ilan- 
darin. Moist conditions. 

580-590 a. d. Gregory implies that the Dead 
Sea stood low, but this is not certain. 

712-750 A. d. Large Mohammedan baths were 
located far out in the desert. Moist condi- 
tions. 

1106 a. d. The Dead Sea stood higher than 
now according to the pilgrim Daniel. 



320 



PALESTINE 



The most cursory study of the table shows that 
the facts are not reconcilable with a progressive 
change of climate. We cannot assume that the 
region tributary to the Dead Sea suffered pro- 
longed drought while the deserts to the east and 
northeast were abundantly watered. The expe- 
rience of modern times proves beyond question 
that in all parts of Syria marked fluctuations in 
the annual rainfall occur synchronously. A dry 
year in the north is dry in the south. Therefore 
we must either entirely disregard the evidence of 
the Pilgrims, or else adopt the hypothesis of a pul- 
satory climatic change. Confining ourselves to 
the evidence immediately before us, we are forced 
to conclude that between 250 a. d. and 333 a. d., 
rapid desiccation took place. This was followed 
by a return to, or at least toward the former status, 
so that in 550 a. d., or thereabouts, the desert 
around Ilandarin was well supplied with water. 
The next thirty or forty years appear to have been 
again a period of desiccation. The evidence of 
Gregory of Tours is not conclusive, however. We 
must test his statements by facts of some other 
kind. After this doubtful second dry epoch mois- 
ter conditions ensued, prevailing in 712-750 A. D., 
and also in 1106 A. d. Further study will doubt- 
less show other periods of aridity or of moisture. 
Our present concern is to determine unquestion- 
ably which of our various climatic theories is true. 

Having been led to adopt the theory of pulsa- 



THE DEAD SEA 321 



tory changes of climate, let us put it to the test 
by comparison of the Dead Sea with other en- 
closed salt lakes. Let us first see to what extent 
the other lakes agree with the Dead Sea in indicat- 
ing pulsations, and then how far all the lakes 
agree with one another and with other evidence 
as to the dates of moist or dry epochs. In order 
that our test may be rigorous I select lakes in 
widely separated parts of Asia, namely, Lake 
Buldur in central Asia Minor, the Caspian Sea, 
the Lake of Seyistan on the border where Afghan- 
istan and Beluchistan are contiguous with Persia, 
and Lop-Nor in Chinese Turkestan, more than 
three thousand miles distant from Palestine. 

Lake Buldur may be dismissed briefly. I visited 
it in August, 1909, and found it surrounded, not 
only by a minor strand eight or ten feet above the 
present level, but by five major strands at eleva- 
tions of 750, 460, 400, 100, and 35 feet. In all re- 
spects they appear to agree with those of the Dead 
Sea. For our present purpose they are impor- 
tant as indicating that the pronounced climatic 
fluctuations of post-glacial time were of the same 
character in central Asia Minor as in southern 
Palestine, five or six hundred miles to the south- 
east. 

By reason of its size and its prominent position 
in history, the Caspian Sea is decidedly more im- 
portant than Lake Buldur. Although its post- 
glacial history has not yet been clearly worked 



PALESTINE 



out because of complications due to the presence 
of the Sea of Aral and of a relatively low channel 
leading to the Black Sea, we know in general that 
in prehistoric times the Caspian Sea fluctuated 
as did other lakes. Coming to historic times we 
find that the accounts of Greek and Latin authors 
indicate that previous to the time of Christ and 
for a century or two thereafter the level was well 
above that of to-day. From the statements made 
by Strabo about 20 a. d., as to the distance from 
the mouth of the Phasis River in the Black Sea to 
that of the Cyrus in the Caspian, and as to the 
width of the broad sandy plain on the west coast 
of the Caspian, Khanikof estimates that the Cas- 
pian then stood eighty-five feet higher than now. 
A few centuries later it had fallen to a level even 
lower than that of to-day, as is proved by a wall 
at Aboskun at the southeast corner of the sea and 
by another at Derbent in the middle of the west 
side. The ends of both walls are now submerged 
for a considerable distance. The exact date of 
neither wall is known, but both were built some- 
where between the fourth and seventh centuries 
for the purpose of preventing the inroads of bar- 
barians. I shall recur to the subject later. What- 
ever may be the exact dates, the two walls to- 
gether prove that at some time between 300 and 
700 a. d. the Caspian Sea stood not only as low as 
now, but distinctly lower. Other ruins beneath 
the level of the water also indicate a contraction 



THE DEAD SEA 323 



of the sea. Unfortunately they cannot be dated 
exactly. The most important are those of an old 
caravan serai whose top projects from the water 
near Baku. The style of architecture appears to 
indicate the thirteenth century as the probable 
date of its erection. If this is so, the lake must 
twice have stood at a low level, for the unques- 
tionable statements of reliable Arab and Per- 
sian authors prove that in the tenth century the 
ordinary level was thirty or forty feet above that 
of to-day, while in the fifteenth century it stood 
for decades at a level slightly lower than in the 
tenth, but above that of the present. 

The evidence of the Lake of Seyistan confirms 
that of the Caspian Sea. Strands belonging to 
the earlier post-glacial stages are not clearly in 
evidence, because when high the lake overflows 
to the God-i-Zirrah. Nevertheless, it is clear that 
the level has fluctuated in the same fashion as 
that of the Dead Sea and Buldur. Ruins beneath 
the present surface prove that it was smaller than 
now at some time early in the Christian era, while 
Persian traditions and old books state that about 
1000 a. d. it was decidedly larger than now. 

At Lop-Nor, in the centre of Asia, we find simi- 
lar conditions. Lack of space forbids an extended 
discussion of this lake, but I have considered it 
fully, together with the Caspian Sea and the Lake 
of Seyistan, in "The Pulse of Asia." Lop-Nor is 
surrounded by five major strands, like those of 



324 



PALESTINE 



Buldur and the Dead Sea. The resemblance is so 
close that we can scarcely doubt that similar post- 
glacial climatic fluctuations have taken place 
in both western and central Asia. Lop-Nor 
appears also to have been subject to minor fluc- 
tuations. In the early centuries of the Christian 
era Chinese records indicate that it was smaller 
than now. The traditions of the Lopliks state 
that in the Middle Ages it expanded far beyond 
the present limits. In this connection the re- 
searches of Dr* M. A. Stein in all parts of the 
basin tributary to Lop-Nor are particularly valu- 
able. As the result of his archaeological expedi- 
tions he finds that a considerable number of sites 
were abandoned at the end of the third century 
of our era. Some were reoccupied in the fifth and 
sixth centuries. None, apparently, were in use 
during the seventh century, but some were again 
inhabited in the eighth. All the sites to which re- 
ference is here made, although formerly prosper- 
ous towns, are now either uninhabited and half 
buried in sand, or else tenanted by a mere hand- 
ful of people. In 1905-06 I examined most of 
these sites. In every case water is now entirely 
lacking, or the amount is utterly inadequate to 
support a tithe of the ancient population. As the 
result of his last expedition, in 1908-09, Dr. Stein 
has found many other facts which seem to him 
to support the general conclusion as to change 
of climate. Thus the results of archaeological 



THE DEAD SEA 325 



study in central Asia confirm those of geogra- 
phical study, exactly as in Syria. 

Before summing up the evidence of all the lakes, 
a few facts should be stated in reference to a pos- 
sible fall of the Dead Sea to a level even lower than 
that of to-day. The Caspian Sea and the Lake of 
Seyistan have almost certainly stood lower than 
at present. Otherwise ruins could not be located 
under water. Probably Lop-Nor has likewise 
contracted at certain periods, for some Chinese 
records assign to it a size smaller than that of to- 
day, while others describe it as larger. The only 
suggestion of a very low stand of the Dead Sea 
is contained in some soundings which I took with 
the aid of Mr. Graham. On account of the small 
size of our boat and the treachery of the lake we 
obtained only one good series. This consisted of 
twenty -four soundings at subequal intervals from 
the shore at the northeast corner of the lake out- 
ward for six thousand seven hundred and sixty feet. 
At depths of twenty and thirty feet sudden irregu- 
larities in the slope of the bottom suggest small 
strands. Between the depths of forty-one and 
forty-eight feet the irregularities are pronounced 
for a distance of half a mile. The contour of the 
bottom simulates that of a series of beaches 
thrown up one after another in such a way as to 
form lagoons. The same condition may be seen 
along the present shore near the mouth of the 
Jordan. A single series of soundings is insuffi- 



326 



PALESTINE 



cient ground for conclusions, but is important 
because of its agreement with allied phenomena 
elsewhere. 1 II 

Let us sum up the evidence of the lakes. The 
agreement among the major strands indicates 
that the post - glacial history of western and 
central Asia has everywhere been characterized 
by the same climatic fluctuations. Except for 
Buldur, which has not been well studied, all the 
lakes appear to have experienced a period of 
contraction in the early part of the Christian 
era, followed by expansion in the Middle Ages, 
and by renewed, but less marked contraction in 
modern times. It may be added that during the 
past century the times of exceptional drought 
for a series of years seem to have prevailed syn- 
chronously over all parts of the large area under 
consideration. The late sixties and early seven- 
ties, for example, were an epoch of scanty rain- 
fall and famine from China to Palestine. In 
general, then, we seem to be justified in two con- 
clusions. First the climatic history of Syria, 
Asia Minor, Persia, Turkestan, and western 
China has been so similar that we may use data 
from any of these countries in determining the 
changes of climate in the others. Second, the 
theory of pulsatory changes offers the only satis- 
factory explanation of the varied phenomena of 
the lakes and ruins which have formed the sub- 
ject of our investigation.^ 



THE DEAD SEA 327 



Assuming that this theory is sufficiently 
established to serve as a working hypothesis, let 
us attempt to ascertain the dates of the pulsa- 
tions from the time of Christ onward. The con- 
clusions to which we seem to be led are illus- 
trated in the diagram on this page, where the 



1 .a 1 ■ ' r ' ' - ■ 1 r 

OAJX 200 400 600 800 1000 1200 IM0 1600 7 180? 

Figure 5. 

Approximate Climatic Fluctuations during the Christian Era. 

high portions of the curve indicate conditions 
of moisture, and the low, conditions of aridity. 
The actual height of the curve must not be under- 
stood as implying anything as to the absolute 
amount of rainfall. As yet, our knowledge of the 
subject is so slight that we can merely state that 
certain epochs were drier or moister than the pre- 
sent, but whether the rainfall in the most propi- 
tious times was ten per cent or fifty per cent greater 
than now, we cannot tell. Having investigated 
the dates of the pulsations of the Dead Sea, the 
next step is to compare these with the dates else- 
where. The pilgrim Daniel's legend of the re- 
treat of the sea at the sight of Jesus agrees with 
the statements of Strabo about 20 a. d. in regard 
to the shores of the Caspian Sea. The second half 
of the first century may have been slightly drier 
than the first half, for at that time famines pre- 
vailed to an unusual extent. The second century 




328 



PALESTINE 



and the first half of the third, to judge from the 
large number of ruined towns, baths, terraces, and 
other evidences of human occupation found in 
the desert from Syria through Persia to China, 
were distinctly moister than the present epoch. 
During this same period, or at least at some time 
near the beginning of the Christian era, the lakes 
of Lop-Nor and Seyistan, as well as the Dead Sea 
and the Caspian, appear to have been at a high 
level. On all sides the evidence agrees in indicat- 
ing that the first two and a half centuries of the 
Christian era were relatively moist. The first half 
century may have been moister than any succeed- 
ing period, and the second half century somewhat 
drier, but there is no indication that at any time 
the climate reached the degree of aridity now 
prevalent. 

At the end of the third century we find signs 
of pronounced desiccation. In the Lop basin, 
according to the researches of Dr. Stein, many 
ruins were abandoned at this time. A little later, 
in the early part of the fourth century, the state- 
ments of the Bordeaux Pilgrim seem to show 
conclusively that the condition of the Dead Sea 
was practically the same as now. The evidence 
of the inscriptions found in the ruins of Syria 
also suggests aridity, as will be shown below. 

A relatively moist period next claims our 
attention, as may be seen in the diagram. We 
have no exact data as to the level of any of the 



THE DEAD SEA 329 



lakes at this time. In all the borderlands of 
Syria desertward, however, prosperity prevailed 
from about 325 or 350 a. d. to 550 or later. At 
this time the churches of Aujeh, the wonderful 
mosaic map of Madeba, and the bath of Thomas 
at Ilandarin were constructed. For over two and 
a half centuries the favorable conditions con- 
tinued. Ear to the east in the Lop basin some 
of the ruins which now are waterless were occu- 
pied as in Syria. Nevertheless, we cannot be 
positive that the period of prosperity was unin- 
terrupted. According to Rawlinson the most 
ancient and reliable tradition assigns the build- 
ing of the wall at Aboskun to the Sassanian king, 
Eiruz, as a protection against the invasion of 
barbarians under Kiyataleh. Firuz ruled from 
459 to 484 A. d. Possibly a period of unusual 
dryness prevailed in his day, and set the barbari- 
ans of the deserts of Turkestan on the warpath. 
We can scarcely believe, however, that the 
Caspian Sea stood lower than to-day. If the 
climate were so dry as to cause such a result, the 
borderlands of Syria would have become utterly 
uninhabitable, even worse than to - day. Yet 
we know that at this very time the Christian 
communities of the Negeb on the south and of 
the parts of Syria far to the north were obtain- 
ing a living from the soil in places now too dry 
for crops. Possibly the main wall was built by 
Firuz, but the extension which is now submerged 



330 



PALESTINE 



beneath the Caspian was not constructed till 
later. The wall will well repay further study, as 
will the one at Derbent, whose date we can only 
surmise. 

A little more than a century after the reign of 
Firuz conditions of aridity worse than those of 
the third century appear to have suddenly over- 
taken the lands of the east. The statement of 
Gregory of Tours as to the position of the Dead 
Sea suggests, but does not prove, that about 590 
A. d. the level was not greatly different from that 
of to-day. The burial of the Olympian ruins 
under fifteen or twenty feet of river silt at this time 
seems to be another indication of aridity. I have 
discussed the question in the Geographical Jour- 
nal of London for December, 1910, and repeti- 
tion here would expand this volume unduly. The 
main point is that aridity appears to have caused 
the death of forests. Then the soil on the moun- 
tain-sides was left with nothing to hold it in 
place. Accordingly it was washed down by floods, 
and filled the bottom of the valley of the Alpheios, 
covering the ruins. 

Arabia, even more than other countries, fur- 
nishes strong evidence of great aridity about six 
centuries after Christ. The Sherarat tribe of 
Arabs inhabits the triangle between Ma'an, 
Jauf, and Teima, across the northern edge of 
which ran the ancient road from Petra to the 
Persian Gulf. The region is wholly desert, and 



THE DEAD SEA 331 



contains no oases, nor any wadis large enough to 
furnish continual pasturage. No place is suffi- 
ciently watered to be the headquarters of a 
large tribe. The Sherarat tribe possesses the 
finest dromedaries in the northern half of Arabia, 
but nevertheless is poor and weak. Its own dis- 
trict will not support it. Hence the tribesmen 
are forced to seek the protection of the larger 
tribes roundabout. During the dry summer they 
can be found in large encampments among the 
Howeitat along the line of the Mecca railroad 
from Teima to Shobek, or with the Beni Atrieh, 
Beni Sakhr, and Roala tribes on the borders of 
Moab, or northwest of Jauf in the great Wadi 
Sirhan and on up to the Hauran. Mr. Douglas 
Carruthers was the first explorer to penetrate 
the home district of the Sherarat. They told him 
that according to the story handed down from 
their fathers, the tribe was once large and power- 
ful. In the days of Mohammed, however, as they 
themselves put it, a great drought occurred, with 
no rain for seven years. The scarcity of water 
and grazing became such that finally the entire 
tribe, with a few exceptions, migrated like the 
ancient Israelites. Passing through Egypt they 
went on westward, and settled in Tunis. This 
migration had nothing to do with Mohammedan- 
ism. It preceded the coming of the new religion. 
It seems to be a clear indication of a phenomenal 
drought, so severe as to cause wholesale migration. 



332 



PALESTINE 



We can date it within a few decades; it must have 
occurred in the early part of the seventh century, 
probably before the Hejira in 622 a. d. 

The wall projecting miles into the shallow 
Caspian Sea at Aboskun seems to be conclusive 
evidence of a similar period of great aridity in 
central Asia. As we have seen, the occurrence 
of such a period in the fifth century is hardly 
probable. Therefore, while Firuz may have built 
the main wall about 460-480 a. d., I feel strongly 
inclined to believe that the part now under water 
was built at a later date. If a period of aridity, 
such as the legend of the Sherarat describes, 
lasted long, the Caspian would inevitably shrink. 
At the same time the hordes of the Transcaspian 
deserts would suffer like the Sherarat. Accord- 
ingly raids would become numerous, and the 
Persians would naturally extend the wall across 
the space left by the receding waters. 

The probable climatic history of western Asia 
after the dry period of the sixth century may be 
readily seen from the diagram already referred to, 
on page 327. After the seventh century condi- 
tions improved. The Mohammedan bath at 
Es Serakh indicates moist conditions in the first 
half of the eighth century. According to Istakhri 
the Caspian Sea in 920 a. d. stood twenty-nine 
feet above the present level. In 1106, if the pil- 
grim Daniel has not erred in his distances, the 
Dead Sea stood higher than to-day. Next comes 



THE DEAD SEA 333 



a dry period. The caravan serai in the waters of 
the Caspian off Baku appears to date from the 
twelfth or thirteenth century, to judge from its 
architecture. The aridity of this time was not 
permanent, however, for in 1306 a. d. the Cas- 
pian Sea again rose to a height thirty-seven feet 
above the present surface. This is said to have 
been due to a change in the course of the Oxus, 
which, after an interval when it did not reach the 
Caspian, again came to it. The river is said to 
have been diverted from the Caspian to the Sea 
of Aral by the Mongols in 1221. Possibly this 
explanation is sufficient. In the Lop basin, how- 
ever, at practically the same time, the so-called 
Dragon Town of Chinese annals was over- 
whelmed by the rapid expansion of Lop-Nor. 
This suggests a period of unusual rainfall lasting 
long enough materially to alter the level of the 
lakes, and to cause the Oxus to resume a course 
which it is known to have followed in earlier 
times when precipitation was more abundant. 
Since 1300 the Caspian has evidently fallen; and 
traditions elsewhere also indicate progressive 
aridity. At Jerash the best-informed man in the 
village told me that the country is now less plen- 
tifully watered than formerly. " In our books," 
he said, "it is recorded that since the days of 
Tamerlane (about 1400 a. d.) many springs have 
become dry and many streams have ceased to 
flow. The great Tamerlane bound the waters.", 



334 



PALESTINE 



The changes of climate from the time of Christ 
to the eighth century seem to be epitomized in 
the architectural activity of Syria. Professor But- 
ler calls attention to a curious fact exemplified 
in the accompanying diagram. The horizontal 




Figure 6. 

Inscriptions found by Princeton Expeditions in the Drier Portions 
of Syria. Arranged by Decades. 



line, as usual, represents time. The vertical com- 
ponent represents the number of inscriptions 
found by the various Princeton expeditions upon 
buildings in the uninhabited or almost uninhab- 
ited ruins of Syria. The inscriptions number 
nearly two hundred and twenty. Those from 
Palmyra are not included. Hundreds might be 
added if the work of other expeditions were in- 
cluded. The diagram shows that from the be- 
ginning of the Christian era to 250 a. d. the 
number of inscriptions increases. Four decades 
are without inscriptions, namely, 61-70, 91-100, 
211-220, and 231-240 a. d. This means that 
during those years no important buildings were 
constructed so far as records were found by Pro- 
fessor Butler. On the other hand, from 111-120 
a. d. four such edifices were erected, and from 
241-250, six. The significant point of the diagram 
is that not a single inscription was found dating 



THE DEAD SEA 335 



from 252 to 324 a. d. After 324 the number goes 
on increasing in normal fashion to the middle of 
the fifth century. It remains high until 609, when 
it suddenly returns to zero. A hundred years later, 
architecture again revives somewhat, at the time 
of the building of the bath at Es Serakh. Later 
than that date inscriptions are not numerous, or 
are not available, being in Arabic. Architecture 
flourished in the eleventh century, however, for 
many large Arab castles were begun. The most 
important ones were undertaken in the twelfth 
century, and were completed in the thirteenth. 
This was clearly a time of great prosperity, for 
many fine tombstones of the eleventh and twelfth 
centuries have been found in regions now desert. 
With them are associated the remains of houses 
with pointed Saracenic arches. After about 
1250 a. d., however, all forms of art and architec- 
ture practically disappear except in regions now 
easily habitable. 

The activity of architecture is an accurate 
gauge of the prosperity of a country. Private 
houses and public buildings are built in large 
numbers in good times. In bad times old houses 
are repaired, and public buildings are forced to 
await a more propitious period. Between 252 
and 324 a. d. something put a stop to architec- 
tural progress in most of the drier parts of Syria. 
It was not war. From the time of the Roman con- 
quest in 80 b. c. Syria suffered no war until 116 



336 



PALESTINE 



a. d., when Trajan made Arabia a province. 
Thereafter peace prevailed unbroken over most 
of Syria until the Persian invasion of Khosroes in 
610. A few warlike campaigns occurred, such as 
that against Palmyra under the Emperor Aure- 
lian; but this did not disturb most of Syria. 
Nothing, according to Professor Butler, offers 
any explanation of the cessation in building 
unless it be some economic cause such as poverty 
engendered by decades of persistently poor 
crops. The break in the inscriptions during the 
seventh century may be due in part to the Per- 
sian invasion. That, however, was not of such 
a nature as completely to stop progress. The 
devastating Mohammedan irruption did not 
take place for about thirty years. Nevertheless 
no important buildings were erected. We need 
not carry the matter farther. From the first 
century to the thirteenth, and we might say until 
to-day, architectural activity in Syria has ap- 
parently fluctuated in the same fashion as rainfall. 
To-day the state of the country depends almost 
entirely upon the amount of rain from year to 
year. In the past it appears to have been equally 
dependent. Each pulsation of climate has thrown 
the population into poverty or prosperity, with 
far-spreading results in every phase of life. 



CHAPTER XV 



THE FALLEN QUEEN OF THE DESERT 



To appraise the full historic importance of 
the rhythmic climatic swing from moist to dry 
and dry to moist lies beyond the scope of our 
present knowledge. Yet in many cases we can 
clearly trace its working, and can form an estimate 
of its share in moulding human destiny. Among 
a score of famous Syrian cities, Palmyra stands 
out preeminently as an illustration of the peculiar 
and often unexpected results of climatic pulsa- 
tions. It may also serve as a final test case by 
which to measure the accuracy of our previous 
conclusions. Our journey thither brought for- 
cibly before us the influence of occasional dry 
seasons in modern times. The ruins and their 
history present an almost unparalleled example 
of the varied and surprising results which ensue 
when many dry seasons are combined into pro- 
longed periods of aridity. The past greatness and 
present decay of Palmyra can best be appreciated 
by comparison with Damascus. Both of these 
famous cities have claimed to be Queen of the 
Desert. Once they strove as rivals, apparently 
on equal terms. Palmyra was vanquished, and 
has become the prototype of desolation. Damas- 



338 



PALESTINE 



cus has made good her claim, and stands for all 
that is queenly, permanent, unchanging. 

For a few years, under wise Odenathus and 
brave Zenobia, Palmyra dazzled the world. Pre- 
viously the city had been of no special impor- 
tance. We hear of it in 34 b. c. when Antony, at 
the instigation of Cleopatra, sent an expedition 
to plunder it. Taking their most valuable pos- 
sessions, the inhabitants, largely merchants, fled 
across the Euphrates, where they were able to 
repulse the Romans. For three centuries there- 
after the city increased in wealth and power. 
In the third century of our era, Palmyra, to judge 
from its ruins, must have been as populous as 
its fortunate rival, Damascus, and far more im- 
portant and beautiful. Practically all the trade 
between the Roman Empire and the Eastern 
lands of Persia and India was in its hands. Its 
merchants were opulent princes, able and will- 
ing to adorn the broad streets and luxuriant 
gardens of their fair city with colonnades, tem- 
ples, statues, and other works of art in a pro- 
fusion well-nigh unequalled in the history of the 
world. Rome and Persia contended for Palmyra's 
friendship. Each was willing to concede almost 
complete independence provided the city would 
be a faithful ally. So great was the power of the 
desert city that, when the ambitious prince Od- 
enathus came to the throne in a. d. 262, he was 
able quickly to establish an independent kingdom, 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 339 



extending from Egypt almost to Constantinople. 
On his death, in 267, the government fell into the 
hands of Zenobia, the famous Arab queen, whose 
beauty made men her willing servants, and whose 
chastity, wisdom, and bravery won the love and 
respect of all her followers. Unfortunately the 
greatness of her power drew down upon her the 
jealous wrath of Rome. Although she led her 
loyal Arabs in person and shared the dangers of 
the camp, the march, and the battle, the Roman 
legions were too strong for her. Defeated in 271 
a. d., she was taken to Rome in 273 to grace the 
triumph of Aurelian, and to become the wife of a 
Roman senator and the mother of Roman citi- 
zens. Palmyra suffered in the wars of Zenobia, 
but was not destroyed; nor was it injured more 
than other great cities have been time and again. 
Nevertheless, its glory rapidly declined by reason 
of a decrease in its trade. The huge caravans 
which had brought the wealth of the East no 
longer frequented its marts, and it relapsed into 
the comparative insignificance which had been 
its lot for ages previous to the Christian era. 

In the fourth and fifth centuries it recovered 
somewhat, and became a Roman post and an 
archbishopric under the Metropolitan of Damas- 
cus. In the sixth century Justinian repaired the 
city, then almost deserted, restored the walls, 
and built an aqueduct to supply water to the 
garrison which he stationed there. No more is 



340 



PALESTINE 



known of Palmyra in Roman history. When the 
Mohammedans took possession of North Syria, 
the place was of no importance whatever, so far 
as can be learned. The ruins of a large mediaeval 
castle, however, indicate that during the Middle 
Ages it regained something of its old position. 
Benjamin of Tudela says that when he visited it, 
about 1172 a. d., its population included two 
thousand Jewish merchants. With such a num- 
ber of merchants, or even with half as many, the 
total population must have been at least five or 
ten thousand. In the days of Abulfeda, 1321 a. d., 
it had probably already declined, for he simply 
mentions its palm and fig trees and its ruined 
columns and temples. During the past century 
the size of modern Palmyra appears to have 
varied. Addison says that in 1835 it had only 
twelve or fifteen families; Cernik attributes to it 
a population of eight hundred souls in 1875; in 
1909 we found perhaps a thousand people, or 
possibly more, gathered like wasps in and about 
the magnificent ruins of the Temple of the Sun. 
The proud city has fallen to the estate of a 
squalid village, whose mud houses cluster almost 
unnoticed among ruins which for combined 
splendor and desolation are well-nigh unequalled. 

Far different is the story of Damascus. She 
is now what she has always been since first the 
world found speech in history, — a busy, enter- 
prising city. Two thousand years after Christ, 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 341 



even as two thousand years before, her plashing 
fountains quench the thirst of myriads who bar- 
gain with half-angry clamor in her shady bazaars, 
and then go forth to gossip under the fruit trees 
of mud villages roundabout, or to spread her fame 
in the hot tents of the sandy desert and in the 
lands which lie beyond. Old she may be, and 
wise, if experience gives wisdom; but she is far 
from being decrepit. Electric cars clang in her 
streets, and motormen more reckless than those 
of New York rejoice in running over sleeping 
street dogs, or in causing pedestrians to jump as 
the cars swing dangerously around the curves of 
a crowded bazaar. Three railroads — one might 
almost say four — centre in the city, running 
south to sacred Medina and Mecca, southwest 
past Galilee to Haifa on the coast of Palestine, 
and northwest to Reyak. There one branch goes 
north to Aleppo to connect with the German 
railroad soon to be built from Constantinople to 
Bagdad, and the other west to the prosperous 
port of Beirut. Electric lights run by power from 
the clear Abana, praised of Naaman, illumine 
shops whose gowned keepers still sit cross-legged 
within reach of all their wares, and sell to wild 
camel-keepers of the desert, just as their prede- 
cessors probably did in the days when Benha- 
dad's general suffered from leprosy. As they sip 
their black unsweetened coffee, or drink their 
lemonade, the merchants talk not only of prices 



342 



PALESTINE 



and of the doings of their great ones, but of 
liberty, parliament, and constitutional govern- 
ment. Everywhere new modes of action and of 
thought are curiously commingled with those of 
the past; for the most ancient of cities is still 
progressive in its own oriental fashion, and seems 
to be endowed with the secret of perpetual 
youth. 

History presents few contrasts more remark- 
able than that between short-lived Palmyra and 
long-lived Damascus. Why should two cities, 
closely resembling each other in location and 
physical advantages, and inhabited by people of 
the same race, have had such strangely different 
careers? Both towns are oases, located only a 
hundred and fifty miles apart upon the northern 
edge of the Syrian Desert, and dependent upon 
water from the neighboring mountains of Anti- 
Lebanon or its spurs. The ancient greatness of 
both was due to an abundant supply of water 
supporting rich fields and gardens upon the edge 
of the desert, where caravans must rest, and 
where those from the East naturally exchanged 
goods with those from the West. A study of the 
map at the end of this volume shows that in 
some respects Palmyra had the advantage over 
Damascus. Caravans cannot cross the desert 
south of Palmyra, and therefore those from 
Egypt, Palestine, and southern Syria used to come 
up to Damascus and then strike northeast to the 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 343 



city of Zenobia. From the ports of northern Syria 
also, and from all the country up to Antioch, 
where the disciples of Christ were first called 
Christians, and to Tarsus, the city of Paul, at the 
northeast corner of the Mediterranean Sea, the 
Eastern trade went through Palmyra, leaving 
Damascus far to the south. Moreover, all the 
roads to Palmyra are level and easy, while some 
of those to Damascus are mountainous. Why, 
then, has Damascus persisted in almost un- 
changed prosperity and importance for ages, 
while Palmyra, long prosperous but relatively 
unimportant, suddenly flashed forth with mete- 
oric splendor, and then utterly faded away? 

On the whole, the modern capital of Syria 
appears to be smaller and less wealthy than its 
predecessor. The character of the two may be 
judged from a comparison of Pliny's description 
of Palmyra with the description of Damascus in 
Mill's "International Geography," a book which 
serves much the same place to the modern Eng- 
lishman that Pliny's work did to the citizens of 
the Roman Empire. The description of Palmyra 
runs thus: "Palmyra is a city famous for the 
beauty of its site, the richness of its soil, and the 
delicious quality and abundance of its water. 
Its fields are surrounded by sands on every side,, 
and are thus separated, as it were, by nature, from 
the rest of the world. Though placed between 
the two great empires of Rome and Parthia, it 



344 PALESTINE 

still maintains its independence; never failing, 
at the very first moment that a rupture is threat- 
ened between them, to attract the careful atten- 
tion of both." 

The moaern description of Damascus runs 
thus: "Damascus, the largest town in Syria, (is) 
built amidst extensive gardens, on the edge of 
the desert beneath Anti-Lebanon. Lines of rail- 
way connect Beirut with Damascus, and a steam 
tramway runs from Damascus to the Hauran. 
Other inland transport is by mule or camel." 

The two descriptions give the same general 
impression. The size of the two places may be 
judged from the following statements of Porter: 
"That portion of the ancient city [of Damascus] 
within the circuit of the ancient walls [built by 
the Romans at approximately the time of the 
construction of the walls of Palmyra] is about 
three miles in circumference. It is densely popu- 
lated throughout, with the exception of a few 
gardens on the south side. On the northern side 
of the city proper there is an extensive suburb; 
but by far the largest suburb lies on the south 
and west of the city, stretching out into the plain 
for about two miles. [The city's] length, from 
north to south, is about three miles, and its 
greatest breadth, a mile and a half." The circuit 
of the city is about nine miles, according to 
Porter's map and description. In regard to 
Palmyra, he says that the walls "are only about 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 345 



three miles in circumference [the same as those 
of Damascus], but there is sufficient evidence to 
show that the ancient city extended far beyond 
them, and probably occupied a space nearly ten 
miles in circumference." Evidently ancient 
Palmyra and modern Damascus were of nearly 
the same size, so far as area is concerned. This 
is made clear by the two accompanying plans 
reproduced from Porter's book, and reduced to 
the same scale. The plan of Palmyra looks 
smaller because the parts of the old city outside 
the wall are not included. A comparison of the 
walls of the two cities, or of the grand colonnade 
of Palmyra and the similar avenue called Straight 
Street in Damascus, gives a fair idea of the rela- 
tive size of the two "Queen Cities of the Desert." 
The greatness of the fall of Palmyra may be 
judged from the fact that the modern village 
fills scarcely more than the area of the Temple 
of the Sun, represented by the square at the east 
end of the plan. Modern Damascus is estimated 
to have a population of about one hundred and 
eighty thousand. In its days of greatness Pal- 
myra may have had approximately the same 
number. 

Before discussing the cause of the peculiar 
history of Palmyra and the reason for the con- 
trast between the two queen cities, let us gain a 
fuller idea of the country between the two, and 
of the effect of dry seasons upon its inhabitants. 



346 



PALESTINE 



It is easy to reach Palmyra. The desert plains of 
fine gravel which lie east of the Anti-Lebanon 
range and between various minor ranges are so 
smooth that a carriage or automobile can readily 
be driven almost anywhere, even without roads. 
The only difficulties arise, first, from the water- 
less stretch of about fifty miles east of Karietein, 
the last inhabited place before Palmyra; second, 
from the heat of the desert; and third, from Arab 
robbers. As we travelled by carriage and were 
able to take water, the first difficulty proved 
insignificant; but it is so distinct an obstacle that, 
although previous to the opening of the railroad 
from Damascus to Aleppo caravans containing 
an annual total of from a thousand to fifteen 
hundred animals occasionally passed this way, 
many more chose to go a hundred and fifty miles 
farther north by way of the well-watered route 
through Aleppo. Since the completion of the rail- 
way, the roads to Palmyra are deserted by all 
save a few frightened villagers, occasional plun- 
dering Arabs, or a handful of curious Europeans. 

Intense heat and Arab raids may both be 
avoided by choosing the proper season, which is 
early spring or late fall. Our journey was of 
necessity made late in May, at almost the worst 
possible season. On May 31, among some subur- 
ban ruins in the desert ten miles south of Palmyra, 
the temperature, under the influence of a south 
wind, rose to one hundred and four degrees at 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 347 

half-past nine o'clock, reached one hundred and 
seven at noon, and remained above one hundred 
and four until after four in the afternoon. In 
the morning, when the temperature was about 
seventy -five degrees, our shirts and coats of 
khaki felt uncomfortably warm, but later, when 
the air became hotter than our bodies, we wished 
that, like the Arabs, we had worn thicker cloth- 
ing to keep out the intense heat. In passing from 
the shade into the sunlight it seemed, as Mr. 
Graham put it, as if we could feel the sun strike 
us with a veritable blow. A strong wind at noon 
brought no relief, but felt literally like the blast 
when a furnace door is opened. 

We travelled from Damascus to Palmyra and 
back to Horns between May 26 and June 4, at 
the height of the season for Arab raids; for these, 
like the majority of human actions, are timed 
according to the earth's rotation and the inclina- 
tion of its axis. As a rule the Arabs make raids 
on one another, rather than on the sedentary 
population, who are protected by their villages. 
On long raids the plunderers often ride three or 
four hundred miles to the scene of operations. 
To be successful they must have camels to endure 
thirst and to travel hard on little food, and horses 
to use in the final dash, when speed and docility 
are required in order to round up and drive off 
the camels or other animals selected as prey, or 
to ride down an escaping victim. The mares, 



348 



PALESTINE 



however, which are the only horses kept by the 
Arabs in any numbers, cannot endure long 
marches without drinking. Accordingly each 
Arab in a well-equipped party takes a milch 
camel and a mare which has been taught to 
drink camel's milk. He rides the camel in the 
desert, and uses its milk to supply both himself 
and his horse with food and drink. When the 
prey is near, the camels are left in charge of a 
few of the raiders, and the rest ride off on horse- 
back. Only when the camel foals are several 
months old can the mothers safely be removed 
from them. Hence May and June are the great 
season for raids. Earlier than this the Arabs do 
not like to take away the mother camels. More- 
over, the business of caring for the young animals 
of all sorts is too engrossing to permit many raids. 
Later, during the progress of the hot, rainless 
summer, many springs and wells dry up, and this 
not only makes it hard to travel across the desert, 
but obliges the Arabs, both the plundered and 
the plunderers, to concentrate around the larger 
supplies of water. Raids are therefore dangerous 
because so many people are together. 

Because of the lack of rain, raids were unusu- 
ally numerous in the spring of 1909. The big 
tribes had been forced to come far in toward the 
cultivated lands, and everything tempted them 
to plunder and fight. Our experiences on the 
road to Palmyra show how numerous were the 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 349 

raids that season. The first day's drive from 
Damascus brought us to Nebk, a clean Syrian 
village, whose poplar groves and orchards make 
a spot of lovely green among the treeless limestone 
wastes of the gray and brown spurs east of Anti- 
Lebanon. There we heard that on the previous 
day a Danish newspaper correspondent, in a for- 
lorn attempt to cross the desert with no money 
in his pocket, no water in his canteen, and no 
Arabic in his head, had been set upon by Arabs 
and not only robbed, but severely beaten and 
wounded. The next morning two men on their 
way home to Palmyra joined us for protection, 
raising our party to seven, — namely, two Ameri- 
cans, a Syrian cook, and a negro driver in the 
carriage, and a soldier and the two Palmyrenes 
on horseback. Toward evening, after an unevent- 
ful day, we came in sight of the mud houses and 
green orchards of the oasis of Karietein, on a 
smooth plain four or five miles away, at the foot 
of low mountains. Not thinking of danger, we 
allowed the driver to whip up the horses and 
drive quickly to the village. The soldier gal- 
loped along beside us, but the two Palmyrenes 
remained behind. When we saw them again the 
next morning, we were shocked to discover that 
one had his right arm and side bandaged. 

"The Arabs are here," he said, in answer to 
our eager questions. "Last night, after you drove 
off, we saw them, a great ghuzzu [raiding party], 



350 



PALESTINE 



sixty men on camels, each with his mare. They 
passed within half an hour of Karietein, and that 
was where I got hurt. My horse was struck in 
the side. The Arabs are still here. We must wait 
a few days till they are gone." 

We regretted that we had left the Palmyrenes 
behind, for the'Arabs would scarcely have dared 
attack our whole party close to a village. More- 
over, we should have enjoyed seeing the raiders 
close at hand. We asked more questions, which 
brought out the fact that, as the Palmyrene's 
Turkish was even worse than mine, we had mis- 
understood each other. What he meant to say 
was that at the time when he saw the approaching 
Arabs, his horse, which he happened to be leading, 
became frightened, kicked him in the side, and 
knocked him to the ground, where he hurt his 
hand. There was no doubt, however, as to the 
presence of robbers. 

We had planned to leave Karietein at three 
o'clock^and ride half of the waterless fifty miles 
to El Beida by daylight and the rest in the cool of 
the night. At noon the three soldiers deputed to 
accompany us came and begged us to put off our 
journey. Not that they cared for themselves, they 
said, or were at all afraid, but solely for our sakes. 
When we said that we were not afraid, they 
were at a loss what to answer. Finally, when we 
seemed bent on starting, they admitted that they 
were in mortal terror. We compromised by wait- 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 351 



ing till sunset, and riding the whole distance by 
moonlight. As we drove out of the village a herd 
of camels could be seen feeding closely bunched 
on a hilltop not a mile away. They belonged to 
the raiders, whose fires we saw behind us for some 
time; but we were not disturbed. 

At the guardhouse of Ain el Beitha, which 
protects Palmyra on the west, we heard of two 
other raiding parties which insolently watered 
their animals from a well under the very noses 
of the five soldiers. On returning from Palmyra, 
the two soldiers who then formed our escort were 
so afraid that we were compelled to go by way 
of Karietein instead of direct to Horns. We did 
not follow our outward route, however, but went 
somewhat south to some ruins among the low 
mountains which run northwestward from Da- 
mascus to Palmyra. After seeing the ruins we 
found that if we could get the carriage over a 
spur a mile or more'ahead, a detour of six or eight 
miles would be avoided. One of the soldiers was 
sent to reconnoitre, but did not return, and we 
became anxious. After two hours and a half we 
sent the other to find him. When the two came 
back in an hour or less, the first soldier looked 
much disturbed, and there was an empty space 
in his cartridge-belt. For a while he was uncom- 
municative, but finally he said: "I got up to the 
top of the ridge and found that the carriage could 
go, so I went on to another little ridge beyond, 



352 



PALESTINE 



and found that there the path was too rocky. 
When I turned back I saw ten or twelve Arabs 
in the valley below me, and I knew that they were 
raiders. I hid, and then I was afraid that they 
had seen me and would climb up another way 
and catch me, so I got behind a safe rock and 
fired eleven shots at them. I did not hit any- 
body, and they went off. Then I hid till just 
now, when my companion came to the other ridge 
and I joined him." 

Undoubtedly the Arabs were raiders, as he 
thought; but his action in shooting at them un- 
provoked was most idiotic. Luckily, to use a 
somewhat Irish expression, they did not know 
how many of him there were, and so did not 
attack him. If he had killed any one, and the 
tribe had become enraged, it would probably 
have cost him his life, and might have cost ours. 
His conduct illustrates the bitter hatred which 
prevails between the Arabs of the desert and the 
Turkish government. 

A single dry season like 1909 is enough to 
throw the borders of the desert into disorder. 
A succession of such seasons throws it into chaos. 
The dry period, from 1868 to 1874, the worst of 
recent times, is clearly apparent in the diagram 
after page 423. The effect of a succession of bad 
years at that time is well described by Wright, 
a missionary who lived in Damascus. I shall 
quote from him at length, adding or changing a 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 353 

few words for the sake of clearness. "On the 
25th of May, 1874," he says, "as we passed out 
of Damascus we saw green vegetables beginning 
to make their appearance in the markets. 
Jaundiced apricots, ripened in the baths, were 
being eagerly purchased and greedily devoured 
by the famine-stricken people. . . . We met a few 
sacks of new barley, artificially ripened, carried 
on the backs of donkeys into the city; and we 
saw fields of barley pulled and left to ripen that 
it might be in time for the famine prices. . . . The 
next day, northeast of Damascus, on the way to 
Palmyra, the red plain had been scratched in 
several places, but the thin ears, blasted with 
the east wind, showed that, as in the previous six 
years, the crop of the region was to be a complete 
failure. . . . The first thing that strikes one on 
entering Yabrud, a Christian village two days' 
journey north -northeast of Damascus, is the 
appearance of the people. The men in this and 
the other villages roundabout are as a rule tall, 
well-built, and handsome. . . . The women are 
tall, red-cheeked, healthy, and comfortable-look- 
ing, and though seldom beautiful, they have 
nothing of the gypsy appearance of the women of 
the south and east, or of the sickly, waxen com- 
plexion of Damascus beauties. ... At the time of 
my visit, however, all cheeks were pale enough, 
and laughter and gladness had departed. I 
started on entering the mission school at the 



354 PALESTINE 

pinched and hungry look of the children. . . . 
Famine was in the district. Five or six bad har- 
vests had followed in succession; madder root, 
which is here largely cultivated, had become 
almost unsalable, owing to a German chemist's 
discovery of a mineral substitute; the flocks of the 
villagers had been swept off by the Arabs, who 
had also intercepted their supplies; and the 
Turks insisted on having their taxes in full, 
though giving nothing in return. I was assured 
that there were not ten bushels of wheat in the 
village of three thousand inhabitants, and the 
people were living chiefly on wild roots and 
vegetables. Fifteen of the scholars were on the 
mountains and in the glens, competing with the 
goats and gazelles for something to drive away 
hunger. Only half of the children went on these 
expeditions at a time, and the fifteen who were 
in the school were making a meal of bean bread 
with mint from the stream and rhubarb from the 
mountain. They were like a flock of hungry kids 
feeding on clover. . . . Every year the people of 
these regions go to the Hauran during the har- 
vest. The men reap for wages, and the daughters 
and wives, Ruth -like, glean after them. This 
having been an unusually bad year, an unusual 
number of reapers and gleaners had gone to the 
Hauran. . . . These poor reapers had amassed 
seventeen thousand piasters (about seven hun- 
dred dollars), and were returning to their starving 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 355 



families. The Arabs were informed of the easy 
prey they would find in these unarmed peasants. 
They waylaid them, and left them hardly a shred 
to cover their nakedness. The Arabs then swept 
on unopposed, . . . and making a circuit by Sudud, 
Hawarin, and Karietein, the last villages desert- 
ward to the west of Palmyra, carried off all the 
stray flocks and donkeys that came in their way." 

Wright goes on to tell other sad tales of the 
suffering of the villagers from the scarcity of 
food, and from the rapacity of the Beduin. The 
plunderers actually robbed women of their don- 
keys, and left the women without a stitch of 
clothing to find their way home as best they 
could. On Wright's return from Palmyra to 
Damascus he ran across a party of Arabs who, 
within a few miles of him, robbed a caravan con- 
ducted by the hardy villagers of Jebel Kalamon. 
The villagers were bringing provisions for their 
families from the Euphrates, and were also carry- 
ing carpets, tobacco, and other valuable merchan- 
dise for sale in Damascus. When attacked by 
the Beduin, they succumbed only after a long 
fight. "The marauders," to quote once more, 
"carried off one hundred and twenty loads of 
clarified butter, and an enormous number of 
donkeys, mules, camels, horses, and arms, valued 
at four thousand pounds. In addition to this, 
they stripped all the travellers, and left them 
naked in the blazing desert. They even stripped 



356 PALESTINE 

the dead. The brothers of the murdered men 
remained to watch the bodies till an animal was 
brought to convey them to a village. They suc- 
ceeded in protecting themselves from the heat by 
day and the cold by night, with rags from the 
furniture of a camel shot in the melee. The un- 
fortunate men were industrious people, inhab- 
itants of Nebk, Deir Atiyeh, and Rahibey. They 
were mostly heads of hungry families, paying 
taxes to the Sultan for protection." 

In summing the matter up, Wright says, "That 
spring, 1874, the Beduin plundered the whole 
eastern borders of Syria. Caravan after caravan 
with Bagdad merchandise was swept off into the 
desert. The British Bagdad post, sacred in the 
most troublesome times, was seven times plun- 
dered, the letters were torn open and strewn over 
the plain, and the postman, without camel or 
clothes, was left to perish or find his way as best 
he could to human habitation. Spearmen, like 
swarms of locusts from the East, spread over 
Jebel Kalamon, and having slain the shepherds, 
and stripped any men and women who fell in 
their way, drove before them all the flocks and 
herds. Feeble fanaticism held sway in Damas- 
cus, and absolute anarchy reigned in the rural 
districts. So great was the terror of the peasantry 
that though they were actually starving, they 
would not move from their villages except in 
large armed bodies. Even thus they sometimes 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 357 



fell a prey to the Ishmaelites. . . . There is no 
reason why this state of things should be per- 
mitted to exist. The military force that year was 
the same as that with which Subhi Pasha kept 
the desert in almost perfect order. The Beduin 
marauders are within easy reach of the govern- 
ment. . . . With anything like protection or fair 
government, the peasantry of northern Syria 
would be among the happiest in the world; but 
for the last ten years, since 1866, they have seen 
the fruit of their labors swept away by organized 
robbers, and they have lived in a state of starva- 
tion and despair. All who can get away leave for 
Egypt and for the large cities, and the region is 
becoming depopulated year by year." 

Writers on the East almost invariably con- 
clude, as does Wright, with strictures on the 
government. The laxness of the Turks, they say, 
is the cause of periods of lawlessness such as that 
of the early seventies. Similarly, we are repeat- 
edly told that the weakening of the Roman 
authority permitted the great influx of Arabs and 
other barbarians which overwhelmed the em- 
pire. Doubtless this is true. We cannot question 
that the establishment of strong garrisons by Tra- 
jan at the beginning of the second century did 
much to foster peace and to encourage the build- 
ing of great cities; while the withdrawal of the 
garrisons exposed the country to devastation. 
Yet in view of what we have seen as to the effect 



358 



PALESTINE 



of times of drought upon the movements of the 
Arabs and upon their proneness to plunder, it 
seems doubtful whether we have not attributed 
too much to governments and too little to nature. 
A strong power might for a time resist the move- 
ments due to desiccation, but the drain on its 
resources would be so enormous that no govern- 
ment could long endure it. If Rome in the past 
and Turkey in later times could have supplied 
food or work to the hungry children of the desert, 
the Syrian borderlands would have been pro- 
tected far more effectively than by soldiers. 

Having seen the nature of the desert around 
Palmyra, and having come to a realization of the 
devastating effects of even a short period of 
desiccation, we are prepared to consider the city 
itself. The approach to Palmyra has been often 
described, a broad desert plain between two lines 
of treeless mountains, the one extending east- 
ward from Horns, the other northeastward from 
near Damascus. The mountains converge to- 
ward a narrow opening or valley through which 
flows all the water of a great triangle, seventy- 
five miles on a side, and having Anti-Lebanon 
for its western base. The country is so dry that 
practically no water ever flows above-ground 
except in phenomenally heavy storms, but much 
flows underground; and this supplies Palmyra. 
As we approached the head of the valley, the 
plain was dotted with thousands of grazing cam- 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 359 



els, and soon we saw a hundred dark tents of 
Aneezeh Arabs beside the wells of Abu Fawaris 
along the line of the chief aqueduct of old Pal- 
myra. The aqueduct runs underground at first, 
but soon comes to the surface. We were able to 
follow its course and mark the carefully hewn 
stones of which it is built. Following it down the 
valley between the two mountain ranges, we 
came upon numerous tall, square towers, varying 
from twenty to sixty feet in height and honey- 
combed with sepulchral niches, where the rich 
Palmyrenes were once laid to rest with their 
families. To the left, northward, a Moslem castle 
of the Middle Ages rises from a hilltop as bare of 
vegetation as the castle walls themselves. Else- 
where the castle would be well worth visiting, 
but here one scarcely looks at it. At a distance, 
down the valley, the view opens out, and on the 
border of a vast barren plain row after row of 
splendid columns is seen, and the huge mass of 
the Temple of the Sun, covering an area eighteen 
times that of the Parthenon. 

Compared with other famous ruins of Syria, 
those of Palmyra are perhaps less artistic than 
those of Jerash, less picturesque by far than the 
great rock-hewn remains at Petra, less massive 
and less carefully executed than the temples at 
Baalbek; but in extent and in unutterable deso- 
lation they are unrivalled. At first one does not 
notice the modern village and its orchards and 



360 



PALESTINE 



palm trees. In most views of the ruins anything 
which suggsts life is conspicuously absent. Ruin 
and desolation reign supreme. The tones of the 
landscape are dull brown and gray; drifts of 
wind-blown sand are piled here and there; broken 
columns, half-fallen walls, and massive stones lie 
all about; the mountains rise bare on the north 
and west, while toward the south and east a 
monotonous desert plain stretches endlessly 
toward Arabia and the Euphrates, dreary brown 
except where the white line of the Sebkah, or salt 
play a, interrupts it some two miles away. Riding 
on down the broad, glaring valley, — for such it 
now seems, although from a distance it looks nar- 
row, — the half -fallen towers of death are left 
behind and the ruins open out before one, — here 
a line of columns, there an isolated temple, yon- 
der the solid walls of great public edifices and the 
radiating arches of the splendid portico in the 
centre of the town, and back of all the huge bulk 
of the Temple of the Sun, its inner columns and 
entablature half revealed where the lofty enclos- 
ing walls have fallen down. 

Of ancient houses or small buildings nothing is 
to be seen except the stones and dust. The gray 
mud walls of the squalid modern village became 
unnoticeable at a distance of a quarter of a mile. 
The village to-day contains not a tithe, probably 
not a hundredth, as many people as the ancient 
city, yet even these few are poor, and find great 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 361 

difficulty in procuring water enough to raise the 
crops necessary for their support. In the modern 
village one traverses intricate passages between 
walls of mud, and enters secluded courtyards, 
where women, shrieking at the sight of a strange 
man, throw veils over their faces and run into 
the houses. From the courtyards one climbs 
flights of narrow stone steps leading up the outer 
walls to the tops of the houses, where one clam- 
bers over low mud walls separating one flat roof 
from another. Only thus is it possible to examine 
the details of the Temple of the Sun, its groups 
of columns, fine bits of carving, and misspelled 
Greek inscriptions, with the Palmyrene equiva- 
lents in strange, half -Arabic letters. Outside the 
modern village the ruins are more attractive, for 
there one wanders unhampered among colon- 
nades and temples and over heaps of rubbish, 
looking here through an arch and there down 
a vista, always attractive, always desolate. 
Drought and death are as all-pervading here as 
verdure and life at Damascus. 

In view of the facts already before us, it seems 
almost superfluous to question whether the cli- 
mate of Palmyra has changed. Nevertheless, 
the ruins afford so clear a refutation of the com- 
mon contention that the decrease in the water 
supply at such places is due to human negligence 
or ignorance, that it is worth while to consider 
the matter briefly. In ancient times Palmyra was 



362 



PALESTINE 



famous not only for the abundance but for the 
sweetness of its water; Ptolemy says that in his 
day there was a "river" at Palmyra, yet to-day 
the supply is not only scanty, even as measured 
by the needs of the present few inhabitants, but 
is highly impregnated with hydrogen sulphide. 
Eight ancient conduits are known to the Palmy- 
renes, who have tried to get water from all by 
carefully cleaning them out and repairing them. 
The attempt has failed except in two cases, so 
that now six of the eight conduits are dry; and the 
other two give sulphurous water instead of sweet. 
The smaller of these has much the better water, 
but it is little used. Such a weak fluid with so 
little taste or scent is good only for women, not 
for men, say the Palmyrenes. 

There can be little doubt that man's careless- 
ness and folly have something to do with the 
manifest decrease in the amount of water, but 
these things can scarcely explain the enormous 
change which is all too apparent. Neither can 
the change be due to earthquakes, as has been 
sometimes asserted. Duhn says that more or less 
severe movements of the earth took place in this 
part of the world, although not necessarily at 
Palmyra, in 434, 1089, and 1759 a. d. These dates 
seem to have no connection with the most critical 
periods of the history of the city. The occasional 
writers who appeal to earthquakes in explanation 
of the fall of Palmyra appear to do so merely as 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 363 

a makeshift to get rid of the necessity of postu- 
lating changes of climate. 

The real cause of Palmyra's present sad condi- 
tion seems to be lack of rain. In the autumn of 
1872, when the springs were at their lowest, Cer- 
nik found no water except "a very unattractive 
little brooklet" [quellbachlein] ; the smaller spring 
was dry. In 1889 Hill found much better condi- 
tions. "All modern notices of the place which 
I have read," he says, "refer to the fact that 
no fresh water is to be found there, and some 
express wonder at the ancient prosperity of the 
Palmyrenes in the absence of this requisite. The 
guide-books recommend the traveller to bring a 
supply of drinking water with him, as the stream 
of sulphurous water, which, till last summer, was 
alone known in modern times as the source of 
supply there, is very disagreeable to the taste. We 
were, therefore, much surprised [in April, 1889] 
to find that the stream near which our tents were 
pitched was fresh and pure. It appears that it 
was only discovered in the summer of 1888, and 
that we were the first Europeans to see it. It runs 
only a few feet under the surface of the ground 
in an old flagged channel." — "The finding of this 
stream has stirred up the inhabitants to search 
for more fresh water, and pits were sinking in sev- 
eral places during our visit." 

The stream found by Hill was not really new, 
but was merely a revival of an old aqueduct, — 



364 



PALESTINE 



the one described above as fit only for women's 
use, in the opinion of the Palmyrenes. The ex- 
planation of the rediscovery of the aqueduct is 
easy. During the rainy season preceding the spring 
of 1872 the precipitation at Jerusalem, as shown 
in the diagram after page 423, amounted to 18.5 
inches; during the three preceding rainy seasons 
it amounted to an average of 16.7 inches; and 
during the ten preceding seasons, to an average 
of 20.5 inches. During the one, three, and ten 
seasons preceding the spring of 1889 the precipi- 
tation amounted to 35.7, 29.2, and 27.7 inches, 
respectively. Throughout Syria and all western 
and central Asia 1872 and the preceding years, 
as we have seen, were times of slight rainfall and, 
consequently, of famine; while 1888 was a year of 
abundant rainfall, and, hence, of abundant crops. 
When the ground became filled with water by a 
succession of comparatively wet years previous to 
1889, the water supply at Palmyra became rela- 
tively abundant and palatable. It is only reason- 
able to suppose that when Palmyra was one of 
the world's great cities, there was rain enough, 
even in the driest years, to render the water 
supply abundant and fresh. 

Having concluded that the climate of Palmyra 
has changed in the pulsatory fashion of other 
parts of Syria, and that even brief periods of 
aridity such as that of the early seventies lead 
to great confusion, we are prepared to discuss 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 365 



the difference between Palmyra and Damascus 
and the cause of the sudden rise of the fallen 
Queen City. Let us first investigate the effect 
of an increase in rainfall upon Damascus. To-day 
that city has plenty of water to support one of 
the largest cities in the Turkish Empire. If the 
city should grow, sufficient water could readily 
be procured by lessening the amount devoted to 
gardens and farms. In the environs practically 
all of the land capable of easy irrigation is now 
cultivated. Even if there should be more rain 
than at present, and if the Abana and Pharpar 
rivers should be larger than now, as they doubtless 
once were, the city would be but little influenced. 
The Meadow Lakes, which are nothing but 
marshes lying east of the city, would become 
genuine lakes. Indirectly the size of Damascus 
might be increased by the growth in agricultural 
communities and in trade in the surrounding parts 
of the desert. 

With Palmyra the case is different. Her water 
must always have been derived from under- 
ground sources rising to light in the springs for 
which the place was once famous. The water 
for the springs must have been gathered from an 
extensive area of comparatively level ground. In 
such a region evaporation has opportunity to 
remove a large part of the rainfall. The rivers 
Abana and Pharpar of Damascus come from 
the snows of Hermon. They gather in high cool 



366 



PALESTINE 



regions, and flow rapidly downward in narrow 
valleys. Hence they lose little by evaporation. 
The ratio of their size to-day to their size in the 
past is probably almost the same as that of the 
rainfall of the two periods. The waters of Pal- 
myra, on the contrary, have been diminished, 
not only by the decrease in rainfall, but by an 
increase in evaporation which may remove many 
times as much water as that which now reaches the 
ruins. In spite of this, however, there is no reason 
to believe that the water of Palmyra was ever so 
abundant as that of Damascus. The almost 
complete silence of history as to the place previous 
to the Christian era opposes such a view. Pal- 
myra never was great until she suddenly became 
a commercial metropolis. Damascus, no matter 
what vicissitudes might befall her, was always 
assured of a certain degree of importance, be- 
cause her life was so closely connected with that 
of the rich regions of Coele-Syria, only two days' 
journey to the west. Palmyra, on the contrary, 
even in the best of times, was always separated 
from the rest of the world by a girdle of desert. 
She became great only when, in spite of her isola- 
tion, she temporarily was closely bound to the 
better watered lands on either side of her. 

The sudden rise of Palmyra to fame took place 
in the third century, at a time when scores of 
other desert cities fell into ruins. In other re- 
spects Palmyrene history agrees exactly with 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 367 



expectations based on our theory of climatic 
pulsations. Why, then, in this one case should 
there be such glaring discrepancy? This question 
can best be answered by a careful study of the out- 
line map after page 423. Up to the first century 
of the Christian era the road from Syria through 
Palmyra to Mesopotamia was but one of many. 
Far to the south the direct route from Egypt and 
from southern Palestine to Mesopotamia gath- 
ered to itself many branches at the rock-hewn 
city of Petra and ran straight across the desert 
to the oasis of Jauf, and then to Bagdad on the 
one hand and the Persian Gulf on the other. No 
ordinary trading caravan, as we have seen, could 
possibly follow this dry route now, and no Euro- 
pean is ever known to have done more than fol- 
low it a short distance. The Arabs themselves 
prefer to go by a longer route lying to the north 
near Jebel Druze. Farther north other similar 
roads once crossed the desert from Syria to 
Mesopotamia. From Bosra in the Hauran one 
ran past the castle of Sulkhad, perched on a vol- 
canic cone, to Jauf and then to the other Bosra 
on the Persian Gulf. So important was this route 
that the western Bosra was often called Little 
Damascus, and the Romans thought it worth 
while to build one of their famous roads straight 
to Jauf. According to the Arabs, the road, which 
they call a railroad now that they have seen the 
new line of track and embankment to Medina, 



368 



PALESTINE 



runs perfectly straight, not even turning aside to 
pass the sources of water which alone now make it 
possible for the Arabs to use this route. No cara- 
vans can pass this way, for east of Jauf, so far as 
can be learned from the Arabs, the desert is im- 
passable. Yet in the Roman days it was so well 
provided with water that caravans did not even 
need to turn aside an hour or two to the sites 
which alone are now provided with wells. 

Still farther north another route led from 
Damascus straight east to Bagdad. During the 
last century it was used for a while by the Brit- 
ish government as the shortest post route to 
India, but commercial caravans could not pos- 
sibly employ it. Neve, one of the few Europeans 
to traverse it, says that his chief memory is of the 
rough voice of the cameleers waking him roughly 
again and again from a brief rest in the sand with 
the gruff remark, "Come, we must be going. 
The camels must get to water." North of this 
route lies that through Palmyra, still passable, 
but with dry stretches of such length that many 
caravans prefer to go through Aleppo by the 
most northern of all the Syrian routes. Here, 
then, in the space of four hundred miles from 
Petra on the south to Aleppo on the north, we 
have five routes across the Syrian Desert. The 
southern one is utterly impassable so far as car- 
avans of the ordinary kind are concerned; the 
second is equally impassable in its eastern half; 



THE FALLEN QUEEN 369 



the third is passable provided a caravan is will- 
ing to run the risk of killing most of its animals; 
the fourth, by Palmyra, is passable, but not good; 
and the fifth, through Aleppo, is easy. 

In the days before Palmyra rose to prominence 
all these five routes were practicable. They 
divided with one another the great trade which 
united the East with the Roman Empire. Then 
during the early centuries of the Christian era 
the southern routes were abandoned one by one. 
Other reasons for their abandonment have been 
suggested, — for instance, the opening of com- 
munication by sea, — but in the light of what 
we have learned as to the changes of rainfall in 
this part of the world, it seems almost certain 
that they were given up because the supply of 
water became scanty. Caravan leaders found 
their animals finishing the journey weak and sick 
from heat and thirst, or dying on the road from 
long dry marches and from scarcity of fodder. 
The Arabs, too, doubtless began to make more 
raids than of yore, for their flocks must have 
been suffering for lack of grass, and the oppor- 
tunities for legitimate profit in connection with 
the caravans were growing less. Accordingly the 
traders began to take the more northern roads, 
longer, but much better supplied with water and 
forage. Thus the southern roads gradually fell 
into disuse, part of the old trade going by sea 
and the rest by more northerly routes. In the 



370 



PALESTINE 



third century of our era practically all the trade 
from the East was concentrated upon the Pal- 
myra road, while Petra and Bosra had already 
begun to sink into insignificance, and even Da- 
mascus felt the strain. With such an increase in 
its trade Palmyra could scarcely fail to grow both 
in population and in wealth. Public works arose, 
built from the rich coffers of the merchants, — 
some, like the colonnades, for ornament, and 
others for very practical use, as in the case of the 
aqueducts and conduits, which the growth of the 
town, as well as the decrease in the size of the 
springs, must have made peculiarly necessary. 

When the desert grew more rigorous and even 
the Palmyra road became difficult, all trade 
languished and the town decayed. When there 
came a time of more propitious rainfall in the 
fourth and fifth centuries, once more Palmyra 
began to revive; but not for long, because the 
desert again grew dry. The prolonged and in- 
tense aridity of the seventh century proved the 
utter ruin of Palmyra, as of all the borderlands 
of the desert. Then the Arabs began to move as 
never before. Not merely one tribe like the 
Sherarat, whose tradition has come to our ears, 
but scores were in the clutches of hunger. Their 
camels were dying of thirst, their sheep and goats 
failed to rear young. All was dismay in the black 
tents of the Beduin. Raids on a scale hitherto 
unknown were the only resource. Palmyra and 



THE FALLEN QUEEN S71 



many another dwindling town must have suf- 
fered final extinction at their hands. Then came 
the word of Mohammed. To people in dire dis- 
tress any new idea appeals powerfully. Perhaps 
they had been sinning, and the one God preached 
by the prophet was angry and had sent the curse 
of drought. Already they had begun to move out 
into the greener lands about them when the seer 
fled from Mecca to Medina, and began to preach 
war. The new religion served as a rallying point. 
Hitherto tribe had fought with tribe for the 
water and pasture of their own land and its 
fringes. Now Mohammedanism gave unity. 
Arab ceased to devour Arab. Under the banner 
of the Prophet the tribes united to overwhelm 
the world. Religion was an essential part of the 
great Mohammedan dispersion. Hunger and 
drought were equally essential. 

The last stages in the history of Palmyra are 
like those of the rest of eastern Syria. After the 
dry epoch of the seventh century the normal 
period of recovery set in when the rainfall once 
more increased. It came to an end with another 
dry epoch, in the first half of the thirteenth cen- 
tury. We know almost nothing of this particular 
epoch. The evidence of it is avowedly slight. 
Yet it too, like its predecessor, was accompanied 
by great movements of desert peoples. In those 
days Jenghis Khan and his hordes burst forth 
from central Asia, and with incredible speed 



372 



PALESTINE 



spread to all quarters of the continent. The suc- 
ceeding moist epoch, being brief and unimportant, 
seems to have had little effect upon Palmyra. 
It came to an end with the close of the fourteenth 
century. Then again, barbarians poured out from 
the desert, this time under Tamerlane. It can 
scarcely be accidental that at each time of in- 
creasing aridity the people of the drier parts of 
Asia have surged forth from the deserts in devas- 
tating hordes. In the intervening epochs of 
increasing rainfall, order has prevailed, the na- 
tions whose prosperity was based upon agricul- 
ture and commerce have grown great and power- 
ful, and civilization has advanced. So it has 
happened in the past; so it may happen in the 
future. Apparently this is the law of history. 
Prolonged drought necessitates migration, inva- 
sion, chaos. An increasing supply of water in 
regions previously dry fosters wealth, culture, 
and the growth of great empires. Damascus 
illustrates the effect of abundance of water. Safe 
at the foot of her life-giving mountains, she still 
sits among her gardens, throned in queenly state. 
Palmyra, far out in the parched desert, has been 
a prey to the vagaries of climate, and has risen 
or fallen according to the abundance of nature's 
rain. To-day she sits mourning in the sand, a 
fallen queen among the shattered fragments of 
her glory. 



CHAPTER XVI 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 

In discussing the climate of the past we seem, 
perhaps, to have wandered far from Palestine. 
Yet Palmyra, the most remote point of our 
investigations, lies less than two hundred miles 
from the Sea of Galilee. All our conclusions as 
to climatic pulsations are as true of Palestine as 
of the surrounding regions. Our knowledge of the 
condition of the country in early times, however, 
is still deficient. We have seen that before the 
days of Christ the rainfall, during certain periods 
at least, was more abundant than to-day; while 
since that time marked fluctuations have taken 
place with profound historic results. It must now 
be our aim to ascertain whether fluctuations 
occurred also previous to the beginning of the 
Christian era. Hitherto we have relied largely 
upon the evidence of archseology and physical 
geography, using historical evidence merely as 
confirmatory. By so doing we have come to the 
conclusion that climatic variations have played 
an important part in determining the course of 
history, and that a specific type of climatic 
change is followed by certain broad historical 
consequences. In endeavoring to reconstruct the 



374 



PALESTINE 



climate of early historic times, previous to about 
600 b. c, we are hampered by the fact that 
archaeological evidence for the most part fails 
us. Geological evidence still remains, stronger 
even than in later periods. In a sense, however, 
it is less helpful, for we are not yet able to date it 
with any accuracy. Hence our geological reason- 
ing must assume the form of general conclusions 
and probabilities. For dates we must turn to 
history. Accordingly in this chapter we shall 
employ a type of reasoning different from that 
of previous chapters. We shall assume the essen- 
tial truth of our main conclusion as to the rela- 
tion of changes of climate to history, namely, that 
adverse changes induce migrations, invasions, 
wars, and distress, and that favorable changes 
lead to prosperity and the expansion of civiliza- 
tion. We shall not make this our sole line of 
reasoning, but shall use it as confirmatory, or 
as the best proof attainable in the present state 
of knowledge. 

Before turning to the consideration of possible 
pulsations and their historic significance, it will 
be well briefly to review the evidence already 
before us as to the general prevalence of rela- 
tively moist climatic conditions previous to the 
Christian era. The apparent populousness of 
Palestine, and we may add of Greece, points to 
this conclusion. So, too, do the statements of 
Herodotus and of Alexander's generals as to the 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 375 

Caspian Sea and the Sea of Aral. The Book of 
Joshua, as interpreted by Clermont-Ganneau, 
indicates that when it was finally edited, perhaps 
six hundred years before Christ, the Dead Sea 
stood much above its present level. In 674 b. c. 
Esarhaddon, one of the greatest Assyrian kings, 
led an army from the Euphrates River across the 
whole desert of Arabia to the remote south. 
By reason of the absolute absence of water in 
vast areas, such a march would to-day be utterly 
impossible. All these facts, and others not here 
mentioned, make a strong case in favor of the 
theory that from about 1100 b. c. or a little 
later, down to the time of Christ, comparatively 
moist conditions prevailed most of the time. 
Still earlier we find a suggestion of similar con- 
ditions in Babylonian and Egyptian accounts of 
the passage of trade and armies across regions 
now desert, or of the cutting of wood among 
mountains which now, if rightly identified, are 
treeless. Naturally the evidence is scanty, but 
it is borne out by geology. Three thousand or 
more years before Christ the Dead Sea must have 
stood at the level of some of its old strands, — 
possibly one of the higher of the minor strands, 
or even the lowest major strand two hundred and 
fifty feet above the present level. We may there- 
fore conclude that throughout the period of 
ancient history the climate of Palestine and the 
neighboring lands was in general relatively moist. 



376 



PALESTINE 



This conclusion by no means precludes the 
existence of epochs of relative aridity. Scientific 
probability is in favor of their existence. The 
glacial period is generally agreed to have con- 
sisted of a succession of cool, moist epochs alter- 
nating with warm, dry epochs. The post-glacial 
stages are believed to have consisted of similar 
alternating epochs of shorter duration. The old 
belief was that these climatic fluctuations came 
to an end before the beginning of history, but 
this is a purely arbitrary assumption. In all 
geological ages strata deposited upon the land 
in relatively dry regions show a constant alter- 
nation between coarser and finer materials or 
between highly and slightly oxidized beds. This 
seems to indicate that climatic pulsations of some 
sort have prevailed with great frequency through- 
out geological time. In the absence of proof to 
the contrary the weight of probability favors the 
theory that fluctuations similar to those of the 
glacial stages, but of less intensity, continued into 
historic times. If it be true that since the time 
of Christ fluctuations have taken place on a 
scale such as we have inferred, the probability of 
their occurrence before that time is increased. 
Finally, the strands of the Dead Sea indicate that 
fluctuations have occurred throughout the entire 
interval since the glacial period. The amount of 
fluctuation has not been uniform at all times. 
On the contrary, it appears to have decreased 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 377 



steadily. During the past twenty or thirty 
thousand years the earth, so to speak, has been 
on the down grade from the crest of the last huge 
climatic wave of the glacial period. The descent 
has been broken by the smaller waves of the 
glacial stages. These in turn have been diversified 
by still smaller waves such as the pulsations of 
historic times; and finally the surface has been 
rippled by insignificant climatic variations hav- 
ing a period of thirty-five, eleven, and even three 
years. Wherever we turn, change, not uniformity, 
seems to be the rule. 

The argument from probability is valuable 
but not conclusive. If the climate of the three 
or four thousand years previous to Christ has 
fluctuated, evidence of it must surely be found 
somewhere. In the years 1903 and 1904 it was 
my privilege to be a member of the Pumpelly 
Expedition sent by the Carnegie Institution of 
Washington to Transcaspia. There we carried on 
excavations in the ancient mounds of Anau near 
Askhabad, the modern capital. Unmistakable 
evidence disclosed the existence in past times of 
five successive cultures or civilizations, separated 
by long intervals of depopulation or depression. 
The last interval occurred early in the Chris- 
tian era, but cannot be dated exactly. It probably 
was coincident with the dry epoch of the third 
century after Christ, and may have lasted until 
the seventh century. In his report Mr. Pum- 



378 PALESTINE 

pelly does not discuss this particular interval, 
since it falls at a date much later than that upon 
which the work of the expedition mainly centred. 
By a most ingenious process of reasoning, how- 
ever, he comes to the conclusion that the other 
similar epochs were the result of periods of 
aridity long before the opening of our era. 

Scientific probability, on the one hand, and 
the phenomena of Transcaspia on the other, 
point to pronounced pulsations of climate pre- 
vious to the Christian era. Events since the time 
of Christ indicate that epochs of exceptional 
aridity are characterized by great migrations 
and invasions such as those of the barbarians 
who overwhelmed Europe, the Arabs under the 
unifying influence of Mohammedanism, the 
Mongols under Genghis Khan, and the Tartars 
under Tamerlane. If both these conclusions are 
correct, ancient history as disclosed in the Bible 
and in Babylonian, Assyrian, and Egyptian 
records ought to show epochs of well-nigh uni- 
versal depression and invasion alternating with 
epochs of high prosperity. Famines and a dimi- 
nution of trade in dry regions should precede or 
accompany the times of invasion: wealth, cul- 
ture, commerce, and the expansion of the power 
of the great nations into regions now desert 
should occur in the intermediate periods. 
? With this in mind let us briefly review the chief 
events of ancient history in the lands surround- 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 379 



ing Palestine. The chronology of early times is 
so doubtful, that we cannot proceed with much 
certainty until about 1700 b. c. In the following 
pages I shall adopt the conservative dates given 
by King for Babylonia, and by E. Meyer and 
Breasted for Egypt. In the haze of the distant 
past the first indistinct shapes to attract attention 
are the nations of Egypt and lower Mesopotamia. 
Beside the Tigris and Euphrates the people of 
Sumer and Accad were civilized perhaps four 
thousand years before our era. A thousand miles 
to the west a cultured Egyptian people of unknown 
origin lived beside the Nile. We know little of 
either of these ancient races; for in their day writ- 
ing appears to have been unknown. Enough that 
they were relatively civilized and prosperous. 
Therefore we infer that the climate of their times 
was not undergoing any special change for the 
worse. During the fourth millennium before Christ 
changes took place in both countries by reason of 
the influx of foreigners. Semites, apparently from 
the Syrian desert, although possibly from other 
quarters also, gradually forced their way into 
Mesopotamia. They do not appear to have come 
suddenly, or in great numbers at any one time. 
Little by little, however, in spite of repeated set- 
backs, they Semitized the people of Sumer, im- 
posing upon them a new speech and a new type of 
civilization. During the same period the Dynastic 
race entered Egypt and founded the first dynasty. 



'380 



PALESTINE 



The Dynastic race seems to have come from the 
south, probably by way of the Red Sea, and pos- 
sibly from southern Arabia. Their coming does 
not appear to have been with violence. They 
prevailed through their higher culture and their 
knowledge of the art of writing, rather than by 
force or numbers. We cannot tell why either the 
Semites or the Dynastic race migrated, and it is 
useless to speculate. Changes of climate may 
have been one of the factors, but we have no evi- 
dence one way or the other. 

During the rule of the first three dynasties 
Egypt was finding herself, so to speak. Then 
under the famous fourth, fifth, and sixth dynas- 
ties, there ensued a period of great prosperity and 
activity. According to Breasted these ruled from 
2900 to 2475 b. c, according to Lehmann from 
3220 to 2550, and according to Petrie 4000 to 
3335. In view of such widely differing estimates, 
the correlation of Babylonian and Egyptian his- 
tory is almost impossible. If, however, we accept 
the dates of Breasted and King, the two latest 
authorities, it appears that at this same time 
Babylonia also was rising to prosperity and 
power. At first, small city states existed prac- 
tically independent of one another, but later they 
were grouped more closely under the kings of 
Kish, Agade, Ur, and Lagash. King Lugalzaggisi 
of Lagash, about 2800 b. c, expanded his rule 
across the desert to Syria, as may be read to-day 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 381 



upon the fragments of a hundred vases which he 
dedicated to "Enlil, King of Lands," in the god's 
own temple at Nippur. This in itself does not 
prove that the desert was less dry than now. It 
is hardly probable, however, that conquests 
could have been carried from the mouth of the 
Euphrates to the Mediterranean in those early 
days, unless the crossing of the desert were much 
easier than at present. A hundred and fifty years 
later, or about 2650 b. c, the famous Sargon I, 
king of Agade, four times invaded distant Syria. 
If then, as now, the desert had been full of 
plunderers, and the road through Palmyra had 
been the most southerly that an army could 
traverse, even with great suffering, we may well 
question whether this would have been possible. 
About 2630 b. c, Naram-Sin, the son of Sargon, 
conquered Magan, which appears to be eastern 
Arabia, a region where an army would now perish 
of thirst. Approximately 2450 b. c. peace reigned so 
profoundly and commerce was so well developed 
that Gudea, the Viceroy of Lagash, in Lower 
Babylonia, was able to bring materials from all 
quarters to build the temple of the god Ningirsu. 
He transported cedars and other trees from the 
Amanus and adjacent ranges near the northeast 
corner of the Mediterranean Sea; brought dressed 
stone from Lebanon, alabaster or some such 
material from Anti-Lebanon, and copper from 
Hermon; he imported "ushu" wood for boards, 



382 



PALESTINE 



and gold for adornment from western Arabia, 
and wood of some rare species from eastern 
Arabia. Supplies of varied nature came from 
other regions. Part were transported by boat; 
part came by land across regions where to-day 
caravans hasten timidly in fear of plundering 
Beduin, or do not travel at all for lack of water. 
That a petty provincial ruler should thus be able 
to gratify his taste for architecture shows how 
high was the state of culture, and how peaceful 
and easily traversed the desert four and a half 
millenniums ago. 

Prosperity could not endure forever. It lasted 
until approximately 2450 b. c, when it gave 
place to three centuries of depression. In Egypt 
this was the period of the seventh to the 
tenth dynasties, a time almost devoid of monu- 
mental records, and therefore presumably an 
epoch of retrogression. At the end of the period 
we find among the kings of Egypt the short- 
lived tenth dynasty which reigned but forty- 
three years. The first king bore the name Khyan, 
another was called Uazed, and a third Yaqeb- 
her, equivalent to Jacob-god. The names are all 
Semitic, and indicate an invasion from the desert. 
The native Egyptian dynasty was driven to the 
south, whence it reappeared on the expulsion of 
the invaders. The 44 Wall of the Princes" along 
the northeast frontier may date from this epoch. 
Like the Great Wall of China, the Pictish wall 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 383 

of England, or those of Aboskun and Derbent 
on the Caspian, it was designed to keep out 
invaders. No one knows exactly when it was 
built, but it figures frequently in history. 

In Babylonia, also, if the chronologists are 
correct, this period seems to have been character- 
ized by an invasion from the desert. A new type 
of Semitic names makes its appearance. A con- 
tract-tablet contains a name exactly equivalent 
to the Hebrew Abiram, while one of the kings 
is Abishua. Others bear foreign, that is, Semitic 
names, occasionally translated into the Sume- 
rian tongue, which still was the language of 
common use. Other facts pointing in the same 
direction must be omitted. Evidently some 
widespread cause was at work in Arabia, forcing 
the nomadic population to move out, not in one 
direction, but in all; for Palestine and the fertile 
lands of South Arabia seem to have been simi- 
larly overrun. In Babylonia, just as in Egypt, 
the native dynasty was driven out, and foreigners 
usurped their place. Then Elam, the rival of 
Babylonia, took advantage of the weakness of 
her sister - state, and for a space usurped her 
power. No direct evidence connects this Arab 
migration with a climatic pulsation, but no other 
adequate cause has been assigned. 

The distress occasioned by these Arab in- 
vasions was followed by a period of prolonged 
prosperity, lasting from about 2200 to nearly 1750 



384 



PALESTINE 



b. c. Little is known of it, but it was certainly 
widespread. Not only did Babylonia and Egypt 
make great progress, but Crete at the same time 
reached its highest state of culture. The Baby- 
lonians appear to have ruled over a wide area, 
which at first included Palestine. In Egypt the 
eleventh and twelfth dynasties made little attempt 
at foreign conquest. In both of the great countries 
of the ancient world the period was one of peace- 
ful internal development. Babylonian culture 
spread far and wide, and dominated Syria. Egypt 
also was in close touch with parts of Syria, and 
intercourse was easy and frequent. The famous 
tale of Sinuhe illustrates the relation of Egypt 
to her neighbors. Fleeing in royal disfavor, 
Sinuhe took refuge in Syria, probably in south- 
ern Palestine. He was received most cordially 
by the local prince, and lived for years in the 
land of his adoption, with a princess as his wife. 
Finally in his old age he returned with full par- 
don to his native home. He tells his strange 
story as a modern author might, dwelling on the 
habits of the people whom he met, and not spar- 
ing to mention his own good deeds. 

From 1700 onward the records of the past are 
fuller than hitherto, and the estimates of chrono- 
logists more harmonious. Here for the first time 
we come upon evidences, not only of invasions 
from the desert, but of other changes which 
would naturally result from a serious diminution 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 385 



in rainfall. From the dry plateau of Persia on the 
east, or perhaps from deserts still more remote, 
the non-Semitic Kassites, akin probably to the 
Tartars and Turks of later days, invaded Media, 
Elam, and Babylonia, and established a dynasty. 
From the barren plateaus of Armenia, or Asia 
Minor, the Mitanni, fore-runners of the Hittites, 
descended to northern Mesopotamia, and there 
founded a kingdom. In Egypt at this same time 
great internal dissension prevailed, and civil strife 
was so common that sixty kings ruled in a hun- 
dred and twenty-five years. Then, finally, ex- 
ternal disaster overwhelmed the peaceful valley 
of the Nile. "In the time of King Timaus," says 
the native chronicler Manetho, as quoted by 
Josephus, "it came to pass, I know not how, that 
God was averse to us. And from the east there 
came unexpectedly men of ignoble birth, who had 
the boldness to make an expedition into our coun- 
try and easily subdued it by force without a 
battle. And when they had put our rulers under 
their power, they afterward savagely burnt down 
our cities and demolished the temples of the gods, 
and used all the inhabitants in a most hostile 
manner, for they slew some and led the children 
and wives of others into slavery." 

These invaders were the Hyksos or Shepherds, 
who crossed the eastern frontier where the 
Prince's Wall should have held them in check. 
"The fearful apparition of this host," to quote 



386 



PALESTINE 



the summary of Cormack, "a people coming 
from unknown regions, strange of speech, uncouth 
in appearance and bloody in act, dismayed the 
passive Egyptians. It was not greed of warlike 
glory, not even the prospect of choice plunder, that 
prompted the invasion, but a motive far more 
terrible. The strangers were a landless people 
who sought a new home. From afar they had 
made choice of Egypt, a land of peculiar felicity; 
they had counted the cost, and arranged their 
plan of action. To appropriate the chosen seat, 
it was necessary to expel or destroy the existing 
occupants." 

The Hyksos did not come as warriors. They 
brought their wives and children, and drove be- 
fore them flocks and herds. It was they, indeed, 
who introduced the horse into Egypt. They came 
as did the Sherarat tribe twenty-three hundred 
years later in the days of Mohammed. The She- 
rarat passed through to Tunis. If they had at- 
tempted to stay in Egypt, they doubtless would 
have fought as savagely as did the Hyksos or as 
did the followers of Islam, thrust out by drought 
from the desert. 

The migrations of the seventeenth century 
before Christ and the seventh of our era are so 
much alike that we are led to believe that they 
may have arisen from similar causes. Our know- 
ledge of the Hyksos, however, is too slight to allow 
of any positive conclusion. We are still in doubt 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 387 



as to the date of their arrival in Egypt, although 
the time of their departure is fairly well fixed. 
Nor do we know their race. Formerly they were 
supposed to have been of Arab stock from the 
desert. Lately, however, Breasted has advanced 
the theory that they were a mixed body of ad- 
venturers, led perhaps by Hittite invaders from 
the north. The majority in any case were prob- 
ably Semites. Perchance the Hebrews were one 
of the tribes who came with the Hyksos, for the 
ancestors of a part of the Israelites apparently 
entered Egypt at about this time. This, however, 
is pure speculation. The great outstanding fact 
upon which attention must be focused is this: 
the period centring about 1700 b. c. appears to 
have been a time of great disturbances. Internal 
dissensions were the rule at home, while invasions 
overwhelmed all the more settled lands, including 
Babylonia, the upper Euphrates region where the 
Mittani settled, Syria, and finally Egypt. Such 
widespread movements must have been due to 
some deep-seated cause. Is this to be looked for 
chiefly in political, or in physical changes, or in 
both? Doubtless great political changes took 
place, but were they primarily the cause or the 
result of the manifest unrest which finally ex- 
pressed itself in great migrations and invasions? 

For at least a hundred years, and probably 
still longer, the Hyksos held their place in Egypt. 
Then they moved out once more, expelled by the 



388 



PALESTINE 



revival of the native races, or attracted back to 
the desert by renewed conditions of abundant 
water and pasturage. They did not all leave 
Egypt in haste or sudden fear apparently, for 
some took with them their cattle, and perhaps 
returned to nomadism. Many, perhaps the 
majority, remained in Egypt and became amal- 
gamated with the Egyptians, but a remnant 
went forth to wander as of old. 
[ For two hundred years following the expulsion 
of the Hyksos, that is, from about 1580 to 1380 
B. c, Egypt once more prospered. Her sudden 
rise to power at this time is comparable with the 
remarkable recovery of Syria between the dry 
epochs of the third and seventh centuries. Under 
Thotmose III, Egypt extended her sway through 
Syria to the Euphrates near Aleppo. There, 
strange to say, the king hunted elephants, shoot- 
ing one hundred and twenty, so he boasts in the 
account of his conquests. In the course of his 
campaigns the Egyptian leader passed through 
Palestine again and again along the great road 
up the Philistine coast and south of the Sea of 
Galilee. On the borders of Esdraelon he fought 
one of his greatest battles, at Megiddo, where 
the Syrians attempted to check his conquests. 
No Hebrews had yet appeared upon the scene, 
but their day was close at hand. Even then, in 
all probability, the clans which later became the 
Israelites were in the desert not far from Pales- 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 389 



tine. At the same time a powerful Kassite 
dynasty ruled in Babylonia. It might have been 
great, had not its lustre been dimmed by the 
superior achievements of Egypt. We do not know 
whether caravans passed directly from one coun- 
try to the other, for the conquerors who wrote 
inscriptions cared little for such matters. We 
do know, however, that Egypt, Syria, and Baby- 
lonia were united by trade of the briskest de- 
scription across regions which now are desert. 

Down to about 1400 b. c. prosperity continued 
to be the rule. Then came the first mutterings of 
a devastating storm of invasion unequalled in 
history, or equalled only during the Dark Ages in 
Europe and the Mohammedan outburst in Asia. 
From the confusion Greece and Rome were born, 
but the greatest result was the Aramean migra- 
tion, one wave of which cast forth from the 
Arabian desert the little tribes of the Hebrews to 
find a refuge upon the hills of Palestine. Fortu- 
nately the precious Tell el Amarna tablets pre- 
serve a full account of the beginnings of the great 
turmoil. We cannot trace the story in full. 
Revolts and raids prevailed in Syria. The Hit- 
tites from the north forced their way down as 
far as northern Palestine. The Egyptian gov- 
ernors and officials in Syria were put to direst 
straits. They appealed to the Pharaoh in Egypt, 
but succor came not at all, or else in driblets and 
too late to avail. A people called the IQiabiri, 



390 



PALESTINE 



perhaps the Hebrews, appeared with the Arabs 
as participants in the petty invasions which 
harassed Palestine and Syria from end to end. 
Between Egypt and Babylonia trade disap- 
peared completely. No caravan could possibly 
withstand the raids which the hungry desert 
folk made throughout Arabia. Egypt had no 
help for her dependencies. She herself was 
threatened by uprisings in Nubia. Deep pov- 
erty afflicted her. Religious dissensions rent the 
country and led to civil war. In other regions 
equal distress prevailed. The kingdom of Mi- 
tannia was overthrown in northern Mesopotamia 
by Hittite invaders from the neighboring high- 
lands. The Mitanni, themselves, forced from 
their homes in the north, came into conflict with 
the Assyrians on the east, while the Arameans 
of the desert probably scourged them on the 
south. The Phoenicians experienced an impulse 
which drove them forth from their narrow strip 
of mountains to colonize North Africa and the 
Mediterranean islands as never before. 

In the midst of the distress and chaos a brief 
lull preceded the final storm. About 1330 b. c, 
according to the monuments, the shattered rule 
of Egypt was reinstated in Palestine. Then came 
the reign of that famous monarch Rameses II. 
He restored Egypt to its old position. He held it 
firm against the Empire of the Hittites, which 
had grown great in the north. Down to about 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY S91 



1250 b. c. civilization maintained its own. Then 
came the last great crash. About that date fam- 
ines played an important part in international 
affairs. In a time of scarcity, Merenptah, king 
of Egypt, went so far as to send grain to Syria for 
the relief of his Hittite allies. The mention of 
this fact is highly significant in view of what fol- 
lows. Soon after, in the fifth year of his reign, 
the Libyans of North Africa and the "peoples of 
the coasts of the sea" combined to invade Egypt. 
A great migration of the races of Italy, Greece, 
and Asia Minor was in progress, induced by a 
movement from regions farther north or east, 
a movement which finally brought the Dorians 
into Greece. At this time Israel is first mentioned 
in Egyptian inscriptions. Some of the tribes who 
went by this name were hovering on the out- 
skirts of Palestine ready to settle a few years 
later. Some were probably in Egypt. 

Other events agree with the famines and the 
universal migrations in suggesting extreme 
drought. About 1250 b. c. an official report 
addressed to King Merenptah states that per- 
mission was given to certain Edomites to pass 
the Egyptian frontier. The report runs thus: — 

"A further matter for the gratification of my 
lord: We have permitted the Bedawi tribes of 
'Aduma (Edom) to pass the fortress of King 
Merenptah in Thuku (Succoth) to the pools of 
Pithom of King Merenptah which are in Thuku, 



392 



PALESTINE 



so that they may obtain food for themselves and 
for their cattle in the field of Pharaoh, who is 
the gracious sun in every land." 

This peaceful admission of the nomads to find 
pasturage for their cattle is supposed to have 
been a matter of policy on the part of the Egyp- 
tians. The country had just emerged from one 
of the worst wars for centuries, a war that racked 
it to distraction. The Libyans who had invaded 
the country in great force from the deserts west 
of the Nile at the time of the famines had been 
repulsed only with greatest difficulty. Now, by 
permitting the Edomites to enter within the wall 
and obtain food for their cattle, the government 
apparently thought to add to its fighting re- 
sources a warlike clan hostile to the Libyans. 
The peaceful admission of the nomads from the 
east, however, did not end the matter. Tribe 
after tribe pressed in without the consent of the 
Egyptians, and threw the land more and more 
into distress. Religious dissension continued to 
add to the bitterness of life in Egypt. Or perhaps 
because life was so bitter, religious differences 
assumed a more sombre aspect. The last straw 
was added when the Arabs joined hands with 
the Libyans and the nations of the ^Egean, and 
the three rivalled one another in devastating the 
little strip of fertile land shut in between the 
deserts and the sea. 
x For fifty years Egypt was in dire confusion. 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 393 



Then better days appeared. The first sovereign 
to enjoy them was Rameses III, who began to 
reign 1204 b. c. In his annals the king recounts 
the conditions prevalent in the days of his pre- 
decessors. 

"The land of Egypt was brought low; the 
prosperity of former years had passed away. The 
people of Egypt were without a guide. The king- 
dom was divided by the princes; they slew one 
another, both noble and mean. Afterward the 
times were more evil; in years of famine arose 
Arisu, a Syrian, as ruler over them, and com- 
pelled all the land to pay him tribute. Joining 
many companions with himself, he despoiled all 
who had gathered riches. In like manner as the 
people, the gods were treated; the appointed 
offerings in the temples were neglected and with- 
held." 

The mention of famine once more is sugges- 
tive of prolonged aridity. The position of Arisu 
resembles that of Joseph in the Biblical narrative. 
The two stories prove that at this time strangers 
from Palestine and Syria were numerous in 
Egypt, and that famine was common. We can- 
not here attempt to unravel the relation of 
Egyptian history to the accounts of the Patriarchs 
and the Exodus. It is enough to point out that 
according to the narrative in Genesis famine was 
the reason for the original migration of the He- 
brews to Egypt. They came as did the Edomites 



394 



PALESTINE 



mentioned in the report to Merenptah. They 
went forth in better times to wander a while in 
the desert, and then to settle in Palestine. The 
history of the thirteenth century before Christ, 
like that of the Hyksos period four or five cen- 
turies earlier, seems to demand some special, far- 
reaching cause. Famines, internal dissensions, 
official corruption, increasing unruliness on the 
part of the nobles, the collapse of the reigning 
dynasty, and terrible invasions from both the 
east and the west cannot happen purely by acci- 
dent. Still less can this be the case when similar 
conditions prevail not only in Egypt, but in the 
other lands round about. Back of all these factors 
there would seem to lie some other. We cannot 
prove that in the thirteenth century before Christ 
a period of relative drought, prolonged, perhaps, 
for generations, gave rise to famines and severe 
economic distress leading to political unrest, 
migration, and invasion, together with many 
other evils. We can merely point out the possi- 
bility. 

The tumult of the Aramean period of invasion 
died slowly. For two centuries Egypt lay pros- 
trate, divided into a northern and southern 
kingdom. Babylonia for a century was afflicted 
by further invasions of Elamites and Arameans. 
Only about 1100 b. c. did Assyria once more begin 
to rise. Between the great nations of the Nile 
and the Euphrates Palestine still seethed with 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 395 

moving tribes. The Hebrews were taking pos- 
session of their heritage in the slow and inter- 
rupted fashion revealed by the books of Joshua 
and Judges. Moabites, Edomites, Midianites, 
Hebrews, and Philistines contended for a share 
in the land. "In those days there was no king 
in Israel: every man did that which was right in 
his own eyes." This was a necessary stage in the 
recovery from the shock of the preceding cen- 
tury. Gradually conditions improved. The story 
of the travels of Wen Amen in Syria about 1080 
B. c. shows that Egypt was awakening to new 
life, but was still weak and divided. Wen Amen 
was sent by the ruler of southern Egypt from the 
capital at Thebes to purchase timber in Syria. 
His kingdom was unknown to the Syrians, be- 
cause the northern part of the Nile country, the 
delta with its capital at Memphis, was Egypt 
according to their ideas. They treated him 
shamefully, permitted him to be robbed, and 
showered him with reproaches because the gold 
in his hand was scanty compared with that which 
the ancient Pharaohs were wont to send three 
hundred years before. In Assyria renewed, but 
transient prosperity was signalized by the exten- 
sive conquests of Tiglath-pileser I, who invaded 
Syria about 1100 b. c. The Assyrian power did 
not last long, for Babylonia, its ancient rival, 
came to the fore, but one country or the other of 
Mesopotamia held high the old traditions. In 



396 



PALESTINE 



Palestine, in corresponding fashion, the kingdom 
was founded by Saul and extended by David. 
At its flower, Solomon grew rich by acting as a 
middleman between the inhabitants of the Nile 
and Euphrates valleys. Controlling, as he did, the 
greatest trade route of the age, it is not surprising 
that he should have imported horses from Egypt 
and sold them to the kings of the north at a good 
price. "And the horses which Solomon had were 
brought out of Egypt, and the king's merchants 
received them in droves, each drove at a price. 
And a chariot came up and went out of Egypt 
for six hundred shekels of silver, and a horse for 
a hundred and fifty; and so for all the kings of 
the Hittites, and for the kings of Syria, did they 
bring them out by their means." This must have 
been a time when the tribes of the desert were 
at peace by reason of abundant water and forage. 
Otherwise Solomon could never have maintained 
a profitable commerce through the port of Ezion- 
Geber at the head of the Elanitic Gulf of the Red 
Sea, nor could the Queen of Sheba have come up 
so easily from the far south of Arabia. 

Phenomena of many kinds have led us to con- 
clude that from the time of David, 1000 b. c, to 
that of Christ, climatic conditions were on the 
whole moister than now, and favored the spread 
of civilization. Various events, however, point to 
the possibility of periods of relative aridity in the 
ninth, the seventh, and perhaps the second cen- 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 397 

turies. Aside from the famines in the days of the 
Patriarchs and of Ruth, none are mentioned as 
of great importance until the time of Ahab in 
870 b. c. The annals of Ethbaal, one of the strong- 
est kings of Tyre, also record a famine at approxi- 
mately the same period. There may be danger of 
carrying our conclusions too far, but it is notice- 
able that at this time the Arabs and the little 
nations on the borders of the desert fell into un- 
rest. For instance, soon after Ahab's death in 
853, the Moabites and Ammonites, together 
with the Meunim, who appear to be the Mine- 
ans of South Arabia, invaded Judah. Other in- 
vasions followed. About 845 b. c. "Jehovah 
stirred up against Jehoram the spirit of the Phil- 
istines, and of the Arabians that are beside the 
Ethiopians: and they came up against Judah, 
and brake into it, and carried away all the sub- 
stance that was found in the king's house, and 
his sons also, and his wives." 

The history of Moab illustrates what may pos- 
sibly be the effect of a period of desiccation at this 
time. In the early accounts, such as the stories 
related in the first books of the Bible, including 
Ruth if that book was written before the exile, 
Moab figures as an agricultural region inhabited 
by a mild people who tilled the soil and were rich 
in flocks. At the death of Ahab, a change ap- 
parently ensued. Moab had been tributary to the 
kingdom of Israel, according to the account in 



398 



PALESTINE ' 



the Book of Kings, paying annually one hundred 
thousand rams and the same number of weth- 
ers with their fleeces. It now revolted, and the 
Moabites raided their neighbors several times. 
Finally Moab was utterly routed in the battle of 
Kir-hareseth or Kerak, as the place is now called. 
The enemies of the Moabites "beat down the 
cities, and on every good piece of land they cast 
every man his stone, and filled it, and they 
stopped all the fountains of water, and felled all 
the good trees." It would be a mistake to lay 
much stress on the mention of the stopping of the 
fountains. Nevertheless the phrase is worthy of 
notice. I have heard Arabs, Persians, and other 
orientals speak of springs and fountains as having 
been stopped by invaders, when, as a matter of 
fact, they had become dry from natural causes. 

Another feature of the history of Moab lends 
color to the hypothesis of a somewhat dry period 
lasting from the time of the famines in the days 
of Ahab, about 870 b. c. to approximately 750. 
In order to avoid the danger of warping the facts 
to fit a theory, I quote from Smith's Dictionary 
of the Bible. "Hitherto," that is, previous to the 
battle of Kir-hareseth in 840, "though able and 
ready to fight when necessary, the Moabites do 
not appear to have been a fighting people. — But 
this disaster seems to have altered their dis- 
position, at least for a time. Shortly after these 
events we hear of * bands' — that is, pillaging, 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 399 

marauding parties — of the Moabites making their 
incursions into Israel in the spring, as if to spoil 
the early corn before it was fit to cut. With Edom 
there must have been many a contest. One of 
these, marked by savage vengeance, recalling in 
some degree the tragedy of Kir - hareseth, is 
alluded to by Amos, where a king of Edom seems 
to have been killed and burnt by Moab. — In the 
'Burden of Moab' pronounced by Isaiah, we 
possess a document full of interesting details as 
to the condition of the nation at the time of the 
death of Ahaz, king of Judah [719 b. c.]. More 
than a century had elapsed since the great 
calamity. In that interval Moab had regained 
all, and perhaps more than all of its former pros- 
perity, and had besides extended itself over the 
district which it originally occupied in the youth 
of the nation." 

Great weight must not be laid upon arguments 
derived from Moab, for the history of that coun- 
try is most imperfectly known. The "Burden 
of Moab " may not be the work of Isaiah, but of 
some post-exilic author, in which case it applies 
to a period considerably later than that now 
under consideration. Moreover, the general 
character of the climate during the main portion 
of Israelite history appears to have been dis- 
tinctly more propitious than now. The situation 
of Moab, however, is such that aridity, even in a 
relatively slight degree, would influence it much 



PALESTINE 



more quickly than would be the case with most 
countries. The ruins of Ziza and the Arab raids 
which we experienced while travelling there illus- 
trate the matter. The plundering propensities 
mentioned in the preceding account are just such 
as inevitably arise under stress of prolonged 
drought. 

The recovery of the Moab a century or more 
after the time of adversity would be the natural 
result of a renewal of the former conditions of 
sufficient moisture. To this time of prosperity 
belong the final deportation of the people of 
Samaria, during the great expansion of Assyrian 
power under Tiglath-pileser IV and his suc- 
cessor Sargon. A little later Esarhaddon con- 
quered Egypt and penetrated to the extreme 
south of Arabia, where he defeated the Mineans. 
Such extensive conquests would be impossible 
unless the desert was easily passable. They fur- 
nish strong evidence that remote parts of Arabia 
were then much more accessible than now. At 
this period, also, trade from Egypt to the Persian 
Gulf and Babylonia was more prosperous than 
at any time, except possibly the epoch of expan- 
sion about 3000 b. c. after the Babylonian migra- 
tion and the development of the early dynasties 
of Egypt. 

Under the influence of climatic pulsations the 
change from prosperity to adversity is usually 
much more abrupt than from adversity to pros- 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 401 



perity. Apparently a nation grows gradually 
under the stimulus of favorable conditions. The 
more powerful expand at the expense of the weak, 
but all advance more or less in unison. In the 
deserts the nomads increase in number, and their 
flocks attain great proportions. The crest of a 
climatic wave is reached. The settled nations, 
dwelling in the best agricultural lands, feel no 
distress. The change is too slight to trouble them. 
They proceed with their plans for expansion and 
growth. The nomad, on the contrary, feels the 
difference at once. At first it does not disturb 
him greatly unless the population has attained 
an uncommon degree of density. Soon, however, 
he comes into conflict with his fellow nomads, 
for all move to the best pasturage and most per- 
manent waters. Conditions become similar to 
those under which the herdsmen of Isaac strove 
with those of Abimelech in Gerar after a time of 
famine. The weaker party is driven out, and be- 
gins to wander in search of new pastures and 
springs. Conflict follows conflict. At length the 
tribes which have often been driven forth grow 
desperate. Impelled by despair they pour forth 
in wild hordes upon the nations roundabout. 
This has happened time after time. It appears 
to have happened in the middle of the seventh 
century, just after Esarhaddon's great conquests. 
As early as 660 a slight advance of Indo-Germanic 
tribes from the dry region to the north began to 



402 



PALESTINE 



trouble Assyria. Soon war arose on every hand. 
By 640 the Arabs were moving outward. In 624 
B.C. the Indo-Germanic tribes broke over the civil- 
ized world in the great Scythian invasions. They 
penetrated to Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. For 
twenty-eight years they terrorized western Asia, 
and then disappeared. Meanwhile the Nabate- 
ans had come forth from inner Arabia. When the 
world once more took account of its condition, 
the Nabateans, who later made Petra their cap- 
ital, possessed the outskirts of Edom; the Medes 
had conquered Nineveh; the Persians were about 
to establish an empire under Cyrus, and the 
sceptre of the world, after two thousand years, 
had passed from the Semites of Arabia to the 
Aryans of central Asia. 

The Nabatean migration was the last of any 
moment before the Christian era, so far as Pal- 
estine was concerned. In the second century, 
however, there may have been a slight return of 
aridity. The observations of Stein upon the Great 
Wall of China, together with distress in Greece 
and Syria, suggest this conclusion. If such a 
period of aridity occurred, it probably soon 
gave place to somewhat more favorable condi- 
tions, centring near the time of Christ. From 
the seventh century before Christ to the seventh 
century after, each successive epoch of moist 
conditions seems to have been somewhat less 
pronounced than its predecessor. That is, a great 



CLIMATE AND HISTORY 403 



climatic wave seems to have risen from about 
1200 b. c. to 700 b. c. with slight interruptions, 
and then to have fallen to 600 a. d. with epochs 
of especially rapid fall followed by recovery at 
subequal intervals. The whole course of climatic 
pulsations from the earliest times to the present is 
illustrated in the accompanying figure. The line 

|< Primitive Historic Era ^ Ancient.Historic Era- Modem Era— -J 

3000 B.C. 2000 A'000 B7C. A.D. 1000 

Figure 7. 

Approximate Climatic Fluctuations of the Historic Period. 

representing climate may also be interpreted as 
representing to a certain extent the fluctuations 
of civilization. As given here, it makes no claim 
to finality. The researches of a single year may 
cause the shifting of a curve a century or more, 
or may smooth out some minor curve and add 
another. Yet in its main features I believe that 
it will stand. 

Three eras make up the tale of history. Three 
great pulsations characterize the course of cli- 
mate during the same period. The eras and the 
pulsations agree in time. The first era com- 
prises the hazy past when Egypt and Babylonia 
were at their greatest. It ends with the chaos of 
the Aramean migrations. The second spans the 
life of Israel in Palestine, the Greeks in their 



404 



PALESTINE 



islands and peninsula, Italy in the most western 
of the great lands of antiquity, and Assyria and 
Persia far to the east. It also ends in chaos with 
the migrations of the Barbarians and the Mo- 
hammedans. The lands which were greatest 
during its continuance lie farther north than 
those of the preceding era, perhaps because the 
northward movement of the climatic zones of 
the earth had changed the location of the physical 
conditions most favorable to human develop- 
ment. The last of the three eras has seen the 
rise of great nations in lands still farther north. 
Already it has endured twelve eventful centuries. 
We dare not prophesy how long it yet may last. 
Perhaps it, too, may end in drought and mighty 
movements of the races, unless by growing know- 
ledge we avert the ills that hitherto have been 
man's heritage. 



CHAPTER XVII 



ANCIENT PALESTINE 



Palestine, in its eventful history, epitomizes 
the age-long struggle between the stern logic 
of physical law and the aspiring idealism of 
man. Born of the desert amid thirst and hunger 
in the painful travail of the Aramean migra- 
tions, the Hebrew race was at first as clay in the 
hands of nature. Many of the Chosen People 
were rejected because they chanced to find a 
resting place on the borders of the land, where the 
turmoil of the desert broke over them, or the 
example of other nations weaned them from their 
own ideals. Others, after a longer trial, suc- 
cumbed to the roads which brought the wealth 
and wickedness of the great world to their doors. 
Only the tribe of Judah remained true to itself, 
and that by no virtue of its own. Its small in- 
heritance, though close to the rush of busy life, 
was secluded by its height and form. Most fortu- 
nately it was never so fertile as strongly to arouse 
the greed of jealous neighbors. There for a 
thousand years and more the Hebrews evolved 
their great ideas, influenced, but never over- 
whelmed by the pulsations of the world around 
them. At the close of their long day, as at the 



406 



PALESTINE 



beginning, we find them in a land like that of the 
present, yet so different that it was almost an- 
other country. 

We have seen how Palestine as a whole is 
partitioned into strips running north and south, 
and how these are gridironed into smaller divi- 
sions by lines of earth movement running east 
and west. We have found that the two most im- 
portant physical features of the country are the 
Judean plateau, elevated, secluded, infertile, and 
difficult to traverse, and the lowland of Esdra- 
elon and Jezreel, which caused the most impor- 
tant lines of ancient communication to traverse 
northern Samaria and southern Galilee. With 
respect to climate we have gained some concep- 
tion of the marked contrasts between adjacent 
districts. We have also discovered that since the 
beginning of history climate has been subject to 
pulsations, although during most of the period of 
the Hebrews it was distinctly moister than now. 
There remains one subject of inquiry to complete 
our picture of the land of Palestine. Are there 
any indirect ways, hitherto unmentioned, in which 
changes of climate have caused the country of 
to-day to differ from that of the past? 

Full consideration of the effect of climatic 
changes would require a volume. We have 
already seen something of their potency in mould- 
ing history through famine, migrations, invasions, 
rebellions, and wars, on the one hand, and the 



ANCIENT PALESTINE 407 



restoration of prosperity, on the other. We have 
studied Palmyra as a cogent example of the con- 
sequences of the diversion of trade from one 
route to another at the behest of rainfall or 
drought. Increasing aridity, far more than any 
other cause, has reduced the traffic passing 
through Samaria to such small proportions that 
the old trade routes are almost negligible as a 
factor in the economic and social condition of 
modern Palestine. To dwell on these matters 
further might be profitable, but lies beyond our 
present purpose. We can only suggest two of the 
many subtle and indirect ways in which climatic 
changes may transform races. Then we shall 
conclude with a picture of the most direct of all 
climatic effects, namely, the condition of the 
land itself in the past as compared with the 
present. 

Among the possible indirect results of changes 
of climate, modifications in the character - of a 
race may prove to be of the first importance. 
The vigor and persistency of the fair races of the 
north as compared with the inertia and incon- 
stancy of the dark races of the south are well 
known. Whatever may be the direct causes of 
this difference, climatic factors such as tempera- 
ture, humidity, intensity of sunlight, and the 
presence or absence of stimulating seasonal 
changes seem to be at its root. They prob- 
ably do not induce variations in man, but by 



408 



PALESTINE 



natural selection through disease or otherwise 
they eliminate from each region all save the type 
best adapted to it, provided always that suffi- 
cient time be allowed. The fair, vigorous type 
has been selected for preservation in the north, 
the dark inert type for equatorial regions, and 
intermediate varieties for intermediate regions. 
In Greece the heroes, as well as the gods and 
goddesses, are often spoken of as of fair com- 
plexion. Among ancient, painted statues, such 
as those in the museum of the Acropolis at Athens, 
a large proportion have reddish or yellowish hair. 
Apparently in the days of Greek splendor the 
upper classes, at least, belonged to a fair-skinned, 
northern type. To-day that type is practically 
extinct, exterminated, in all probability, by the 
selective force of climate. With such extermina- 
tion must have gone a modification of the gen- 
eral racial character of the inhabitants as a 
whole. Probably the fair races were invaders 
from the north, and would have been extermi- 
nated under any circumstances by the new cli- 
mate to which they came. Granting this, the 
fact still remains that the process of extermina- 
tion must have been hastened by the changes of 
climate which we infer to have taken place. The 
history of Italy in this respect was apparently 
like that of Greece. As to Palestine no such 
assertion can be made. Nevertheless, if such 
effects were produced in other countries, the 



ANCIENT PALESTINE 409 



weight of probability favors their occurrence in 
Palestine. A thousand years of life under the 
bracing conditions of the Judean plateau, as it 
was in ancient times, may have eliminated many 
weak elements from the Hebrew race, and given 
it a strength far beyond that of the present in- 
habitants, a strength commensurate with the 
greatness of its contribution to history. 

The selection of one type rather than another 
to persist in a region is probably in most cases 
a pathological process. Certain diseases attack 
specific human types, and sometimes exterminate 
them. Disease may also modify the character 
of individuals who survive, weakening the will 
or embittering the imagination. Malaria is a 
disease of equatorial and subtropical countries. 
It prevails somewhat in more northern regions, 
but not malignantly. Modern research shows 
more and more clearly that malaria and allied 
diseases influence not only man's physical being, 
but his moral and intellectual capacity. Victims 
of continually recurrent attacks of malaria, in 
the absence of any specific such as quinine to 
ward it off, become inert, hopeless, despondent, 
and sometimes cruel and vicious. The recently 
discovered hookworm disease is known to sap 
the energy of its victims, although few die from 
it directly. Other diseases such as la grippe are 
coming to be reckoned highly dangerous, not 
because many of the afflicted meet death, but 



410 



PALESTINE 



because prolonged debility follows each attack. 
If half the inhabitants of Germany were to 
suffer from la grippe each winter, the efficiency 
of that nation would be reduced enormously. 
Yet only in modern times have we come to a 
state of knowledge where the prevalence of so 
mild a disease would find more than an acci- 
dental mention in history. To-day malaria is 
prevalent in the lowlands of Palestine to a dan- 
gerous degree, while the highlands suffer some- 
what, but not so badly. As to malaria in early 
times in Palestine we know little. In Greece, 
however, Jones has shown that the disease prob- 
ably did not prevail to a dangerous extent until 
well after 400 b. c, while in Italy it did not 
become a menace until still later. Apparently, 
although this is by no means proved, the in- 
creasingly subtropical character of the climate 
of those countries has gradually rendered them 
a fit habitat for the anopheles mosquito, which 
spreads malaria. When the disease once became 
common, afflicting as it does the majority of the 
children up to the age of puberty, and leaving 
permanent results such as the enlargement of 
the spleen, it must have greatly weakened the 
moral fibre of the Greeks and Romans. In sim- 
ilar fashion the decay of Palestine may be due in 
part to the introduction of malaria or other insid- 
ious diseases which flourish under present climatic 
conditions, but not under those of the past. 



ANCIENT PALESTINE 411 



From these indirect and as yet highly theoret- 
ical results of the change from the climate of the 
past to that of the present, we turn to one which 
can be easily measured. The most manifest 
direct result is a great decrease in the produc- 
tivity of the land. Doubtless in favored spots the 
yield per acre is as great now as formerly, but this 
is the exception. One needs only to look at the 
scanty, stunted stalks of many a wheat harvest 
throughout the country, but especially in the 
highlands, to be assured of this. With abundant 
rain the crops of districts where the soil is deep 
and rich are equal to those of any part of the 
world. Unfortunately the soil is deep only in 
the plains. Even there the rainfall is often 
insufficient for the best growth of the plants. 
In the hilly portions of Palestine innumerable 
ancient olive presses, terraces, and walls of fields 
and vineyards betoken extensive cultivation in 
places where naked rock now forms well-nigh 
half the surface, and the rest consists of stony 
soil only a few inches deep. This condition has 
often been attributed to reckless deforestation, 
but if our conclusions as to former density of 
population are correct, this can scarcely be the 
true explanation. Quite as often the absence 
of soil has been ascribed to man's negligence, to 
his lack of care in repairing walls, filling gullies, 
or preventing indiscriminate grazing. Doubtless 
this is often true, but what has occasioned man's 



412 



PALESTINE 



special negligence at certain epochs? May it not 
be an indirect result of diminution of rainfall? 
Common experience indicates that when crops 
fail year after year, when money for taxes can- 
not be procured and tax-gatherers become extor- 
tionate, when poverty prevents the purchase of 
new tools, and when the cattle must be sold to 
pay debts, no race, however vigorous, can long 
maintain a high type of agriculture. Buildings, 
walls, terraces, and wells inevitably receive less 
care than formerly, and many fields lie neglected. 
The young men leave the old homes. Few save 
the weak or those without ambition remain 
behind after a generation or two. If nomadic 
raids harass the country, the population becomes 
still scantier. 

In a land thus neglected the direct effects of 
aridity at once become apparent. When the 
Caspian Sea stood so low that the wall at Abos- 
kun was completely above water, presumably 
early in the seventh century, the climate of 
western Asia must have been distinctly drier 
than now. Less than a hundred years earlier it 
was so moist that Aujeh, now in the desert, was 
inhabited by people who could afford costly 
mosaics to adorn the floors of their churches, 
while far to the north the waterless ruins of 
Ilandarin were so well supplied with flowing 
streams that Thomas donated a bath to his fel- 
low citizens. So rapid a change must inevitably 



ANCIENT PALESTINE 



413 



have caused a wholesale diminution of vegeta- 
tion. Scattered trees in orchards and by road- 
sides, or groves and patches of forest on hilltops 
or in narrow untilled valleys, must have died on 
every hand. Bushes, grasses, and other small 
plants must have diminished greatly in abun- 
dance. Hence, even without man's intervention, 
denudation was bound to overtake the slopes. 
Unless held in place by vegetation, soil is every- 
where washed from the hills to the lowlands with 
great rapidity. The burning of forested areas, 
or the breaking of the cover of vegetation by 
ploughing, permits the carrying away of soil, but 
these processes are not a tithe so potent as a 
change from moist conditions to aridity. The 
present denudation of the hills of Palestine ap- 
pears to be the direct result of the difference 
between the climate of the past and that of the 
present. 

In the time of Christ and earlier, Palestine must 
have been a most attractive land. Even rugged 
Judea, although far less rich and fruitful than 
many neighboring regions, was, nevertheless, 
full of villages. Beside many of them huge oak 
trees, like one or two still found around Jerusa- 
lem, must have stretched out knotted arms for 
twenty or thirty feet to shelter from the noonday 
sun the tired husbandman and the belated woman 
with her jar of water. "When all of the now bar- 
ren hills were dusky with graceful olive groves, 



414 



PALESTINE 



bright green with vineyards, or yellow with 
swishing wheat, the broad sunset views westward 
to the blue sea or eastward to the purple plateaus 
beyond Jordan must have been as fair as heart 
could wish. The air must have been full of life 
and vigor, for even now an evening in June on 
the breezy plateau is often fresh and cool as 
April. Farther north the broad vales and fertile 
hillsides of Samaria, varied by the rocky domes 
of Ebal, Gerizim, and Gilboa, present an attrac- 
tive view to-day. In the greener past they must 
have been still more attractive, although the 
Samaritans failed to feel their inspiration. Gali- 
lee, lacking the breadth of vision of Judea, gloried 
in beauty of detail, — lovely valleys embowered 
in greenery where springs broke out and ran 
purling down to turn the stones of mills and then 
to water riotous gardens where the green things 
scarce knew how to cease from growing. The Sea 
of Galilee must have resembled the Italian lakes. 
Even now the gardens of the plain of Gennesaret, 
the brakes of oleanders along the shores of the 
lake, the occasional groups of trees like those at 
old Capernaum, and the rich pasturage where the 
Arabs encamp in crowds at the north end of the 
lake are as beautiful as one could wish. When 
half a dozen towns, each of ten or fifteen thou- 
sand inhabitants, surrounded the lake, every 
part of the shores must have been green. As one 
looked across the blue sheet of water, deep- 



ANCIENT PALESTINE 415 



sunken beneath sea-level, the view must have 
been truly enchanting whether eastward toward 
the smooth skyline of Jaulan, with its symmetri- 
cal little volcanoes, westward to the more varied 
mountains of Galilee, or northward to Hermon 
and the flat top of Lebanon, then much more 
snowy than now. The shores are not so bold as 
those of Garda and the other Italian lakes, but 
otherwise the scenery must have possessed the 
qualities which make those sheets of water so 
famous; and in addition it was blessed with large 
fleets of ships to lend picturesqueness to the scene. 
Time fails to speak of the forests of Gilead, the 
cedars of Lebanon, the harvests of the plateaus 
east of Jordan, the gardens of Jericho, and the 
gorges and cliffs around the Dead Sea. In the 
olden days the psalmist and the prophets were 
right in their praise of Palestine. 

That a land so varied, so peculiar, so beautiful, 
should have moulded a peculiar people seems 
natural. Yet something more than merely the 
land was required to give the world all that has 
gone forth from Palestine. When nature set her 
seal of doom upon the country, she touched the 
physical. She blasted progress, drove men to 
anarchy and despair, and killed great thoughts 
and aspirations. Yet the ideas already evolved 
would not die. Christ took them, ennobled them, 
and made them the greatest of earthly forces. 
They were emancipated from material control. 



416 



PALESTINE 



They spread beyond the sphere of desolation, 
carrying with them life and faith. They proved 
that little by little the mastery is passing from 
the lower realms of nature — the material — to 
the higher realms — the ideal. 



APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 



Ancient Statements as to Meteorological Phenomena in Pal- 
estine. — Popular expressions as to meteorological phenomena 
are notoriously inexact. The Bible is full of statements as to 
rain, snow, hail, frost, dew, drought, and other phenomena 
pertaining to the weather. None, however, are sufficiently 
explicit to afford distinct evidence as to whether conditions 
have changed or not. The use of meteorological terms de- 
pends largely upon the point of view. If two weeks pass in 
Ireland without rain, people speak of the drought; whereas 
in Greece three months may pass without a sign of rain in 
summer, but no one thinks of calling that a drought in the 
sense of anything unusual. 

Various Biblical expressions have been interpreted as in- 
dicating a change in meteorological conditions. For instance, 
it has sometimes been supposed that the frequent use of the 
terms "former" and "latter" rain means that there were two 
distinct rainy seasons. Such a view has no proper founda- 
tion, for the same mode of expression is still applicable. The 
early fall rains and the late spring rains are indispensable to 
the crops and assume an importance out of proportion to 
their actual amount. We may safely dismiss the idea of any 
radical change in the nature of the successive seasons. It is 
possible, however, that there has been a change in the time of 
the beginning and end of the rainy season. The only definite 
statement on this head is found in the Mishna, the earliest of 
the Talmudic writings. This book was completed not long be- 
fore 200 a. d. It therefore by no means represents the period 
of the main prosperity of Palestine. As quoted by Conder 
(1876) , p. 122, the Mishna says that " men shall begin the form 
of praise appropriate to the manifestation of the Almighty 
power in the giving of rain — from the first day of the Feast 



420 



APPENDIX 



of Tabernacles [which by reason of the peculiarities of the 
Jewish calendar may fall at any time from Sept. 20 to 
Oct. 19]. On the third day of Marches van [a date which may 
vary from Oct. 8 to Nov. 7] shall they begin to pray urgently 
for rain. If the 17th day of Marchesvan [Oct. 22 to Nov. 21] 
come without any rain having fallen, then shall they begin to 
celebrate three days of fasting." If we compare this with a 
statement by Wilson, who knows Palestine thoroughly from 
long residence, it appears as if rain was expected somewhat 
earlier in the first centuries of the Christian era than now. 
Wilson, in his volume on Peasant Life in Palestine, says: 
"About the end of October or beginning of November, in 
favorable years, clouds begin to gather on the western horizon, 
chiefly at sunset. After a few days the clouds gather more 
thickly, the roll of thunder is heard, and finally the windows 
of heaven seem to open, and torrents of rain descend. The 
Fellahin have seen the storm coming, and all preparations 
have been made." This suggests that rain is not now ex- 
pected until a month after the Feast of Tabernacles, at which 
time it was looked for when the Mishna was written. 

Statistics lead to a similar conclusion. According to the 
tables of Hilderscheid and the recent volumes of the Quarterly 
Statement of the Palestine Exploration Fund, during the 
fifteen years from 1845 to 1860 no rain fell at Jerusalem in 
September, and during only four years did any fall in Octo- 
ber. During the forty-five years between 1860 and 1906, 
for which more accurate records are available, rain fell only 
five times in September and twenty-nine times in October. 
In September, however, the rainfall amounted to 0.2 inches 
or more only twice, and to 0.5 inches only once ; while in 
October it amounted to 0.2 inches or more twenty times, 
and to 0.5 inches or more eleven times. In each of the five 
cases where rain fell in September, none fell in October, so 
that in those years the rainy season did not actually begin, so 
far as the farmers were concerned, until November in three 



APPENDIX 



421 



cases and December in two. In computing the date of the 
beginning of the rainy season, it is proper to leave out of 
account all months having less than a fifth of an inch of rain- 
fall, for this is so small an amount as to be of no use what- 
ever so far as crops are concerned, unless the ground is al- 
ready moist. Falling on the dry ground, it simply evaporates 
without making any impression upon vegetation. It is also 
proper to leave out the September rainfall, even in the two 
cases where it amounts to more than a fifth of an inch, namely, 
0.28 and 0.8 inches. It fell so early as to be of no use to the 
farmers, and was succeeded in the first case by over a month 
and in the second case by over two months of drought. It 
thus appears that during the fifty-nine years, in which re- 
cords have been kept, the rainy season, from the point of view 
of the farmer and the writer of the Mishna, has begun twenty- 
four times in October, twenty-seven in November, seven in 
December, and once in January. In the majority of the Oc- 
tober cases the rain has come toward the end of the month; 
in five the total amount of rain has been less than half an 
inch; and the average for all the Octobers counted in the 
twenty-four is only 0.57 inches. 

If we compare these results with the dates given in the 
Mishna, it appears that the Jews of the early part of the Chris- 
tian era were told to give thanks for rain at a time when, ac- 
cording to present conditions, no rain worth mentioning had 
yet fallen in four years out of five. They were told to pray 
urgently for rain after a date varying from October 8 to No- 
vember 7. This is the time when the rain is now expected in 
"favorable" years, although the farmers do not feel dis- 
turbed if it comes slightly later, as it generally does. Alto- 
gether it seems as if the seasons may have been a little earlier 
in the old days. The dates of the Jewish calendar, however, 
vary so much by reason of the intercalary month that there 
is much possibility of error. Moreover, the time of the be- 
ginning of the rainy season varies so much from one part of 



422 



APPENDIX 



Palestine to another that several diverse statements may be 
correct. 

The end of the rainy season is more regular than the be- 
ginning. Leaving out of account, as before, the months hav- 
ing less than 0.2 inches of rain, it appears that during the 
fifty-seven years for which data are available, the rainy sea- 
son ended five times in March, twenty-nine in April, and 
twenty-three in May. In four of the cases where it ended in 
May, however, that month had from 0.28 to 0.56 inches and 
the preceding month from 0.00 to 0.32, so that the real end 
of the season was in March. We may therefore revise our 
figures, and say that from the farmers' point of view the 
rainy season ended nine times in March, twenty-nine in April, 
and nineteen in May. The average rainfall during the nine- 
teen Mays was 0.59 inches, and for the twenty-nine Aprils 
1.49 inches. In the Mishna the question is asked, "Until 
what time shall rain be sought?" The answer is, "Until 
the Passover is finished," which may fall at any time from 
April 2 to May 2. Rabbi Meir, however, makes the end of 
Nisan, which is twenty-two days before the last day of the 
Passover, the end of the time when rain should be sought, 
since it is said in the Bible, "and he will cause to come down 
for you the rain, the former rain and the latter rain, in the 
first month." Thus, taking account of the variability of the 
Jewish calendar and the different interpretations of the Rab- 
bis, the end of the rainy season in the second century was 
expected at any time from the 10th of March to the 2d of 
May, which does not differ essentially from present condi- 
tions. If any conclusion is to be drawn from the Mishna, it 
would seem to be that two hundred years after Christ the rainy 
season probably began somewhat earlier than now and ended 
about the same time as at present. It may have continued 
longer, however; the amount of rain may have been greater 
than now; and the number of dry years may have been less 
than to-day. In short, the Mishna is not sufficiently precise 



APPENDIX 



423 



in its statements to warrant any conclusion either for or 
against the theory of changes of climate. Moreover, as is 
fully set forth in the body of this volume, the climate of 
Palestine appears to have varied so much from century to 
century that a statement true for the period one or two 
hundred years after Christ may be quite untrue for the 
time of Solomon or of Mohammed. 



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INDEX OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES 



Genesis, 10 : 11, Eehoboth, 121. 

12 : 10, Famine in days of Abraham, 393. 
13 : 18, Abraham at Hebron ; Machpelah, 111. 
14 : 1-16, Raid of Chedorlaomer, 93. 
18 and 19, Story of Sodom and Gomorrah, 194-198. 
21 : 22-32, Abraham's covenant with Abimelech, 
114. 

26 : Famine, 393 ; Isaac and Abimelech, 114, 121, 
401. 

28 :19, Jacob at Bethel, 139. 

29 : 1-10, Wells stopped with stones, 101. 

37 : Sale of Joseph, 8. 

41 : Joseph in Egypt, famine, 393. 

47 : Famine in days of Patriarchs, 393. 
Exodus, 12, etc., Conditions of the Exodus, 268-272. 
Leviticus, 23 : 40, Feast of Tabernacles, 57. 
Numbers, 1 and 2 : Census of Israelites, 262, 263, 270. 

13 : First attempt of Israel to enter Palestine, 127. 

13 : Spies sent by Moses, 128. 

14 : War with Amalekites, 127-128. 

25 : 3, Baal-Peor, 211. 

26 : Census of Israelites, 262, 263, 270. 
Deuteronomy, 11 : 10-12, Irrigation in Palestine, 57-58. 

12 : 2, High Places upon the mountains, Petra, 223. 

19 : 6, Avenger of Blood, 38. 
Joshua, 8 : 1, Ascent to Ai, 141. 

13 : 4, Sidonian traffickers, 8. 

13 and 14, Division of tribes by Joshua, 164. 

14 : 13, Caleb at Hebron, 112. 

15 : 14-17, Capture of Debir by Israelites, 112. 

15 : 2-6, Boundaries of Judea, 310, 311, 



428 INDEX OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES 



15 : 61-62, Cities of Judean Wilderness, 94. 

17 : 14, 18, Forests cut down by invading Israelites, 
264, 267. 

18 : 15-20, Boundaries of Benjamin, 310, 311. 
Judges, 4 : Barak and Sisera, 163, 168. 

7 : Conflict with Amalekites, 270. 
11 : Story of Jepkthah, 227, 233. 
13 to 16 : Story of Samson, 69-71. 
17 : 6, "No king in Israel," 395. 

20 : 24-28, Phinehas and the Ark at Bethel, 139. 
20 : 1, " Dan to Beersheba," 114. 
Ruth, 1 : Ruth and Naomi, 211. 

1 : 1-4, Moabites in time of Ruth, 397. 
2 : 14, Ruth and Boaz ; Parched corn, 142. 

I Samuel, 3 : 20, " Dan to Beersheba," 114. 

9, 10, and 11, Founding of kingdom by Saul, 396. 

13 : 5, Israelites at Michmash, 140. 

13 : 19-22, Recourse of Israelites to Philistines for 

blacksmiths, 61. 
14 : 48, War of Amalekites with David and Saul, 

128. 

17 : David and Goliath, 71-73. 

22 : 1, David's flight to Cave of Adullam, 73. 

29 : 1, Saul and Jonathan at Jezreel, 161. 

II Samuel, 2 : 11, Hebron as David's capital, 111. 

3 : Ishbosheth, 227. 

5 : 5, Extent of Kingdom under David, 396. 

8 : 2, Moab as tributary of Israel, 397-398. 

18 : Absalom's rebellion and death, 27, 227, 231. 

19 : 34, Going up to Jerusalem, 17. 
24 : 1-10, David's census, 263. 

I Kings, 4 : 26, Solomon's trade in horses, 396. 
5 : 6, Sidonian traffickers, 8. 

9 : 11-14, Solomon's sale of villages to Hiram, 164, 
167. 

9 : 26, Trade at port of Ezion-Geber, 396. 



INDEX OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES 429 



10 : 1-10, Queen of Sheba, 396. 
10 : 28-29, Solomon's trade in horses, 396. 
18 : 2, Famine in time of Ahab, 396. 
18 : 19-40, Elijah on Mount Carmel, 157, 158. 
21 : Ahab, Jezebel and Naboth, 8, 158. 
II Kings, 3 : 4, Mesha and the Moabite tribute, 199, 212. 
3 : 24-25, Battle of Kir-hareseth, 398. 
4 : Elisha and the Shunammite woman, 158. 
5 : Naaman and the Abana river, 341. 
15 : 29, and 18 : 9-11, Deportation of Samaritans, 
400. 

I Chronicles, 29 : 25, Extent of kingdom of David and Solo- 

mon, 25. 

II Chronicles, 1 : 9, Extent of kingdom of David and Solo- 

mon, 25. 

1 : 16-17, Solomon's trade with Egypt, 396. 

9 : 28, Solomon's trade in horses, 396. 

13 : 8, Golden Calf of Jeroboam at Bethel, 140. 
20 : Invasion of Judea by Moabites in time of Je- 

hoshaphat, 93. 
21 : 16, Invasions of Judea by Philistines, 397. 
22 : 1 ; 26:7, Invasions of Judea from desert, 38. 
28 : 3, Valley of Hinnom, 83. 

32 : 9, Movement of armies in Philistine plain under 
Sennacherib, 25. 

Song of Solomon, 1 : 14, Beauty of En-Gedi, 100. 
Isaiah, 9 : 1, Galilee of the Gentiles, 164. 

10 : 9, Samaria and Heathenism, 31. 

19 : 23-24, Trade routes from Egypt, 30. 
15 : The Burden of Moab, 399. 

33 : 9, Bashan as an example of wealth and accessi- 
bility, 226. 

Jeremiah, 5 : 24, Former and latter rains, 419. 

32 : 7-12, Anathoth, the home of Jeremiah, 152. 
50 : 19, Bashan as an example of wealth and acces- 
sibility, 226. 



430 INDEX OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES 



Hosea, 6 : 3, Former and latter rains, 419. 

7 : 1, Wickedness of Samaria, 173. 
Amos, 1 : 1, Amos in Tekoa, 84. 

2 : 1-3, Moabite wars with Edom, 399. 

4 : 1, Kine of Bashan, 243. 
Joel, 2 : 23, Former and latter rains, 419. 
Matthew, 2 : 13-15, Jesus' journey to Egypt, 170. 

3: 13-17, Baptism of Jesus, 315-316. 

4 : 15, Galilee of the Gentiles, 173. 

15 : 21, Jesus' journey to Tyre and Sidon, 170. 

16 : 13, Jesus' journey to Caesarea Philippi, 170. 

19:1, Jesus in Perea, 228. 

19 : 13, 14, Jesus blessing the children, 228, 232, 
233. 

20 : 18, Going up to Jerusalem, 17. 

23 : 37, Journey of Jesus to Jerusalem, 170. 
Mark, 7 : 31, Jesus in Decapolis and Perea, 176. 
Luke, 19 : 28, Journey of Jesus to Jerusalem, 170. 
John, 4: Jesus and the Samaritan Woman, 28, 136-137. 

7 : 50-52, Pharisees and Nicodemus, 163. 
Acts, 1 : 19, Field of Aceldama, 83. 

9 : 36-43, Peter at Joppa, 54. 

21 : 2, Phoenician traffic, 42. 



INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



Aaron and Moses, 128. 
Abarim, Mts. of, 201. 
Abdeh, population of, 127. 
Abdul Hamid II, 210. 
Abdullah, 93, 151. 

Abimelech, covenant, with. Abra- 
ham, 114 ; and Isaac, 401. 
Abiram, 383. 
Abishua, 383. 

Aboskun, wall at, 322, 329, 332, 412. 
Abraham, 195 ; covenant with Abi- 
melech, 114; at Hebron, 111. 
Absalom, 27, 231 ; flight of, 227. 
Abu Fawaris, 359. 
Abu Khalyun, ruins of, 134. 
Abulfeda, cited, 340. 
Acacia trees, 192. 
Accad, 379. 
Aceldama, 83. 
Acre, 51. 

Addison, cited, 340. 
Adullam, Cave of, 73. 
iEgean Races, Invasion of Egypt, 
391-392. 

Africa, animals of, in Shephelah, 
78. 

Agade, 380. 

Agriculture, ancient, of Negeb, 129- 
135; in Judea, 15, 83; past vs. 
present, in Palestine, 282 ; in Syria, 
286; precariousness of, in north- 
east Syria, 287. 

Agrippa I, inscription of, 240. 

Ahab, 8, 397. 

Ahaz, 399. 

Ahmed, horse-boy, 88. 
Ai, 141. 

Aidel Ma (Adullam), 73. 

Ain Farah, 152. 

Ain Feshkah, 91. 

Ain Jidi (see En-Gedi). 

Ajalon, Vale of, origin of, 81. 

Ajalun, Mts. of, 231. 

Akaba, Gulf of, 182. 

Akeldama (Aceldama), Field of, 83. 

Akka, 167. 

Alexander, 269. 



Allegheny Plateau, compared with 

Judea, 154. 
Almonds, 60. 
Alpheios, floods of, 330. 
Alps, compai*ed with Lebanon, 33. 
Amalekites, war with, 127, 128. 
Amman, 279 (see Philadelphia); 

ruins of, 294, 295. 
Ammon, 233. 

Ammonites, invasion of Israel, 397; 

invasion of Judea, 93. 
Amos, 84, 399. 
Anau, excavations at, 377. 
Anathoth, 152. 
Anderlind, cited, 254. 
Aneezeh Arabs, 359. 
Animals in art, of Shephelah, 78. 
Ankel, cited, 249, 265, 267. 
Anthony and Palmyra, 338. 
Anti-Lebanon, upheaval of, 23. 
Antioch, 286. 
Apameia, 286. 

Appalachian structure of Gilead, 

229, 233; of Samaria, 150. 
Aqueducts at Palmyra, 359, 362 ff. 
Arab raids, 92, 102, 126, 215, 276, 277, 

298, 302, 398; near Ghor, 189-191; 

near Palmyra, 346-348, 355-358. 
Arabah, 24 (see Ghor and Jordan). 
Arabia, ancient conquests in, 400; 

dry periods in, 330-332 ; former 

trade in, 273; invasions from, 37; 

Roman Province, 336; trade routes 

in, 159. 

Arabia Petra, ruins in, 270-271. 

Arabian Desert compared with Cal- 
ifornia, 22. 

Arabs (Beduin), agriculture of, 
119 ; attempts to render sedentary, 
122 ; fields of, 74; of Ghor, 217; hos- 
pitality of, 212 ; in Judean wilder- 
ness, 85 ; movement in dry years, 
113; quarrels with villagers, 97; 
under Roman rule, 126. 

Arad, ruins of, 97. 

Aral, Sea of, 322, 333. 

Aramean migration, 389. 



432 INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



Archaeologist, observations of, 

chapter xiii, 283 ff . 
Architecture in North Syria, 284; in 

South Syria, 285. 
Aridity, effect upon soil, 411-413; 

periods of, 328, 330; relation to 

migration, 387, 391-394; of Shephe- 

lah, 98. 
Arisu, 393. 
Arnon River, 193. 
Art, Egyptian in Shephelah, 78. 
Aryans in Assyria, 402. 
Asia Minor, climatic changes in, 

321. 

Asochis, plain of, 169. 

Assyria, Indo-Germanic invasion 

of, 401, 402; in Twelfth Century, 

B. C, 394. 
Assyrian campaign in Syria, 45. 
Aujeh, 104, 329, 412; crops at, 132; 

ruins at, 122-123; population of, 

127. 

Aurelian, war against Palmyra, 
336, 339. 

Baal, worship on Carmel, 157. 
Baal-Peor, 211. 
Bab-el-Wad, Wadi Ali, 82. 
Babisca, 291. 

Babylonia, early history of, 379 ff . ; 

trade routes to, 30; in Twelfth 

Century, b. c, 394. 
Bagdad Post, 356, 368. 
Baku, caravan-serai at, 323, 333. 
Bananas at Jenin, 144; in Jordan 

Valley, 33. 
Baptism of Jesus, 315-316. 
Barak, 163. 

Bashan, 29, chapter ix, 226 ff . ; geo- 
logical structure of, 226, 234; hos- 
pitality in, 235; scenery of, 230; 
villages in, 235. 

Bathing place of Jordan, 315, 316- 
318. 

Baths, Roman, in desert, 289-292, 

295; ruins of, 319-320. 
Beaches, 304-310 (see Strands). 
Beans, in Shephelah, 60. 
Beduin (see Arabs). 
Beersheba, 104, 113-118, 282; crops 

at, 131 ; gardens at, 125. 
Beisan (see Beth-shean). 
Beirut, 51, 63. 

Beit Jibrin, 95 ; caves of, 73, 75-78. 

Beni Atrieh, Arabs, 92. 

Beni Na'im, village, 97-98, 141. 



Beni Sakr, Arabs, 212. 

Benjamin, bounds of, 312; of Tu- 

dela, 340. 
Bethany, location of, 83. 
Bethel, Jereboam's Golden Calf at, 

140; history of, 139. 
Beth-hoglah, 311-314; robberies at, 

189. 

Bethlehem, David at, 71; location 

of, 82. 
Bethsaida, 178. 

Beth-shean, roads through, 160. 
Biblical sites, identification of, 315. 
Birain, population of, 127. 
Birds, 300 ; at mouths of Jordan, 185. 
Bitumen, 188. 
Bkaa, 24. 

Black Sea, connection with Cas- 
pian, 322. 
Blacksmiths, early, 61. 
Boatmen, at Jaffa, 52. 
Boats, canvas, on Dead Sea, 92, 186. 
Boaz, 142. 

Bordeaux Pilgrim, 317, 318, 328. 
Bosra, 278 ; baths at, 290 ; ruins of, 

241-242, 292-293 ; trade routes from, 

277. 

Boundaries of Juda and Benjamin, 

310-312. 
Breasted, on Egypt, 379 ff. 
Bridges, dry, 288. 
British Post to Bagdad, 368. 
Bronze Age of Israelites, 61. 
Buldur, Lake, strands of, 321. 
Burak, bridge at, 288. 
Butler, Prof. H. C, cited, 283 ff., 319, 

334, 336. 
Buttauf , Plain of, 169. 

Cactus, 56, 58. 

Csesarea, harbor of, 51. 

Caleb at Hebron, 112. 

Calendar, Hebrew, 420-422. 

California, compared with Pales- 
tine, 21, 25-26, 35. 

Camels, of Arab raiders, 347-348; 
at Palmyra, 35-38 ; procession of, 
301 ; in wilderness of Judea, 94. 

Capernaum, 178. 

Caravan trade, influence of, 172-173. 

Carmel, 21, 50; colonies in, 57; de- 
scription of, 156-158; geological 
Structure of, 156 ; origin of, 28; 
roads around, 160. 

Carnegie Institution, 377. 

Carruthers, D., cited, 275-277, 331. 



INDEX OF NAMES 



AND SUBJECTS 433 



Caspian Sea, fluctuation of, 321- 

323, 327-328. 
Cauliflowers, 83. 
Cave dwellers in Gilead, 232. 
Caves, of Edrei, 236-240 ; in Shephe- 

lah, 73, 75-78 ; near Sodom, 197. 
Cedars of Lebanon, 45. 
Census, David's, 263 ; Joshua's, 263, 

270. 

Cernik, cited, 340, 363. 
Chaldea, trade routes to, 159. 
Chalk of Shephelah, 144. 
Charcoal burners in Gilead, 231. 
Chedorlaomer, 93. 

Children, and Jesus, 232 ; of Druses, 
243. 

Chorazin, 178. 
Christ (see Jesus). 

Christianity in Negeb, 122; intro- 
duction to Shephelah, 77. 

Christians, early in Shephelah, 73, 
76, 77. 

Chronology of Egypt and Babylonia, 
379 ff . 

Churches in Negeb, 123. 
Circassians, 240; at Amman, 294- 

295 ; at Jerash, 279, 282. 
Cisterns in Negeb, 110. 
Citron, 57. 
Cleopatra, 338. 

Clermont-Ganneau, cited, 310, 313, 
315, 317, 375. 

Climate, changes of, 39, 188 ff.; 
dates, 319-327; diagram of, 403; 
effect on civilization, 400-401; ef- 
fect on Palmyra, 385-372 ; in Gali- 
lee, 178-179; hypothesis of defor- 
estation, 254; hypothesis of pro- 
gressive change, 255, 319 ff.; hy- 
pothesis of pulsatory change, 
256, 319 ff.; hypothesis of uni- 
formity, 253-254; in Moab, 206; in 
Negeb, 129-135; at Sodom, 197; 
synchronism with history, 6, 7, 373. 

Climate, of ancient Palestine, chap- 
ter xii, 249 ff . ; cycles of, 253 ; and 
history, chapter xvi, 373 ff. ; of 
Palestine, degree of change in, 
258-261; of Palestine, main fea- 
tures of, 256-258 ; relation to com- 
plexion, 407-409 ; sub-tropical char- 
acter of, 34 ; theories of, 249-256. 

Coast, drowned, of Phoenicia, 50-51 ; 
uplifted, of Palestine, 51-52. 

Coastal Plain, of Philistia, 79 ; Ori- 
gin of, 149. 



Coffee among Arabs, 213. 
Colonnades, Greek or Roman, 123; 

at Jerash, 280. 
Colonists, Jewish, 57. 
Columns, fluting of, 76. 
Commerce, ancient, 269. 
Complexion, and climate, 407-409; 

of Druses, 244. 
Condor, cited, 249, 265, 266, 419. 
Constance, Lake, compared with 

Galilee, 32. 
Contrast between Shephelah and 

Judean Wilderness, 95-99. 
Coptos, trade routes to, 278. 
Cormack, cited, 386. 
Counterfeiters in Jerusalem, 116. 
Cradles, 60. 
Cranes, 300. 
Craters in Leja, 246. 
Crete, height of culture in, 384. 
Crops, of 1909, 133; failure of, in 

Negeb, 130-132 (see Agriculture). 
Cruelty to animals, 106. 
Crusaders, conquest of Moab, 199; 

relation to Druses, 244 ; in Syria, 

45. 

Crustal movements, 23, 27. 
Cucumbers, as fruit, 100. 
Cuesta of Shephelah, 80. 
Cultivation, ancient, 112. 
Cycles of climate, 253. 
Cyprus, seen from Lebanon, 48. 
Cyrus, 402. 
Cyrus River, 322. 

Dahariyeh, 112. 

Dahna, bridge at, 288 ; dry spring at, 
289. 

Damascus, compared with Chicago, 
171; compared with Palmyra, 
337 ff.; contrasted with Palmyra, 
342 ; description of, 343, 344 ; his- 
tory of, 340-342; water supply of, 
365-366. 

Dan and Beersheba, 114. 

Daniel, the Russian, 316, 319, 327, 
332. 

Dates of climatic epochs, 290-291. 

David, census of, 263; extent of 
kingdom under, 25 ; extension of 
kingdom, 39; flight to Gilead, 227; 
and Goliath, 71-73; at Hebron, 
111 ; war with Amalekites, 128. 

Dead Sea, ancient expansion of, 
303 ff.; boats on, 186; compared 
with Californian lakes, 22, 26 ; de' 



484 INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



posits of , 108; expansion of, 255; 
fault of, 24 ; fluctuations of, chap- 
ter xiv, 303 ff., 375; former level 
of, 102-107; recent changes of, 
185; salinity of, 181,193; scenery 
of, 183-186, 191-194; soundings of, 
325; water of, 187-189; western es- 
carpment of, 89. 

Debir, 112 ; limit of cultivation, 135. 

Decapolis, 235 ; roads through, 160. 

Deforestation, hypothesis of cli- 
mate, 254, 411. 

" De Gloria Martyrum," 317. 

Depopulation, during drought, 302; 
and misgovernment, 210. 

Depression of Phoenician coast, 63. 

Dera'a, 236. 

Derbent, wall at, 322, 330. 

Desert, of Ghor, 218 ; menace of, to 
Palestine, 98. 

Deserts, cause of, 86. 

Dew, in Plain of Sharon, 60; in 
Shephelah, 75. 

Disciples of Jesus, 136. 

Disease, effect on character, 409. 

Dishonesty among Fellahin, 96. 

Dissection of Palestine, 149. 

Divan, 212. 

Dog River, 44. 

Dorians, migrations of, 391. 

Dothan, 8 ; roads through, 159. 

Dragontown, in China, 333. 

Drainage, ancient, of Palestine, 146. 

Dress, of Arab women, 236 ; of Ju- 
dean peasants, 13; of women in 
Philistine Plain, 59 ; of women of 
Samaria, 9. 

Drought, in 1909, 207, 300-302 ; in Sev- 
enth Century, 331; effect upon 
raids, 348-350, 352-358 ; effect upon 
Arabs, 190. 

Druzes, 240-246; complexion of, 244; 
dress of, 242 ; origin of, 244 ; quar- 
rels of, 244, 245. 

Duhn, cited, 362. 

Dynastic race in Egypt, 379, 380. 

Earthquakes at Palmyra, 362. 
Eastern Plateau, 24, 26, 27. 
Ebal, Mt., 10, 155. 
Ed Damieh, 229. 

Edom, 199 ff . ; compared with Moab, 
216; with Utah, 220; escarpment 
of, 105-107, 111; geological struc- 
ture of, 220 ; separation from Ju- 
dea, 104. 



Edomites, at Hebron, 111; in Egypt, 
391, 392. 

Edrei, caves at, 236-249, 301. 

Egypt, early history of, 379 ff . ; mis- 
sionaries from, 77; trade from, 8; 
trade routes from, 28, 156 ff. 

Egyptian art, 78. 

Elah, Vale of, 71; origin, 81. 

Elam, 164 ; rise to power, 383 ; trade 
routes to, 159. 

El Aujeh (in Samaria), 141. 

El Bara, 291. 

El Beida, near Palmyra, 351 ; Tombs 

of, near Petra, 221. 
Elchi, 222. 

Electric cars in Damascus, 341. 
Elephants in Syria, 388. 
Eleutheropolis, 73 (see Beit Jibrin). 
El Gharara el Kubla, 246. 
El Ghuttar, cave of, 197. 
El Hesy, ruins of, 74. 
Elijah, at Carmel, 157, 317. 
Elisha and the Shunammite, 158. 
El Kubad, 67. 

Emigration in times of drought, 

357. 

En-gannin, 159 (see Jenin). 
En-Gedi, 93-94, 99-103. 
England, size compared with Pales- 
tine, 19. 

English, honored by Druses, 241, 
245. 

En Nukra, 234 (see Bashan). 

Ephraim, inheritance of, 265. 

Erosion, effect of hard and soft 
rocks, 149-150; of Palestine, 149; 
stage of, in Philistia, 79-80. 

Esarhaddon, 375, 400, 401. 

Es Beita, population of, 127. 

Escarpment of Edom, 216, 218. 

Esdraelon, battles in, 163; colonies 
in, 57 ; fault of, 25, 28, 50, 144 ; move- 
ments along fault of, 43 ; last move- 
ment, 148; plain of, 29, 169; roads 
through, 31. 

Es Salt, 229, 230. 

Eth Baal, annals of, 397. 

Eucalyptus, 56, 58. 

Exile, routes of, 273; of Samaritans, 
400. 

Exodus, 127, 268-272, 393. 
Experiment station at Jaffa, 59. 
Ezion-Geber, 396. 

" Fallen Queen of the Desert," chap- 
ter xv, 337 ff. 



INDEX OF NAMES 



AND SUBJECTS 435 



Famine, in Ancient Syria, 391 ; in 
Egypt, 393; in 1874, 353 ff. ; in Pal- 
estine, 397; in sub-tropical coun- 
tries, 38. 

Fanaticism in Samaria, 8. 

Fara, plain of, 133. 

Faris, guide, 105. 

Fault, east of Dead Sea, 191. 

Fault Scarp of Judea, 85, 89 ; of 
Edom, 105-107. 

Faults (see Esdraelon, 25, etc., Dead 
Sea, 24, etc.). 

Fellahin, character of, 56 ; servants 
of Beduin, 74. 

Ferns, in Shephelah, 75. 

Fertility, ancient, of Palestine, 263. 

Fig trees, 56. 

Firuz, Sassanian King, 329, 332. 

Fischer (T. H.), cited, 249. 

Floods at Beersheba, 115. 

Flowers, near Gaza, 74; in Judea, 
110 ; in Moab, 207. 

Fords of Jordan, 315. 

Forests, ancient, in Xorth Syria, 264, 
266-268, 284; effect on rainfall, 254 ; 
in Gilead, 229, 231, 233; Heb. words 
for, 266; in Lebanon, 45; relation 
to changes of climate, 285-286. 

Former rains, 35, 419. 

Fountains, stopping of, 398. 

Fraas, cited, 249, 279. 

France, size compared with Pales- 
tine, 20. 

French campaign in Syria, 45. 

French expedition to Egypt, 269. 

Fuel in Judea, 84. 

Galilee, chapter viii, 163 ff.; boun- 
daries of, 29 ; compared with Eng- 
land and the United States, 171- 
173; description of, 175-177; fertil- 
ity of, 169 ; non-Jewish character 
of, 163-166; lower, 168; physical 
divisions, 165-166 ; roads through, 
160; small size of, 169; trade 
routes in, 171-173 ; upper, 165-168 ; 
variety of, 170-171 ; in time of 
Christ, 414-415. 

Galilee, Sea of, ancient cities on 
coast of, 65, 178-179 ; description, 
175-179 ; compared with Lake Con- 
stance, 32 ; origin of, 175. 

Gardens, ancient, in Xegeb, 124, 125 ; 
of Judea, 14. 

Gasoline engines in Philistine Plain, 
58. 



Gatt, on crops of Xegeb, 131. 

Gaza, 159; agriculture near, 131; en- 
virons of, 74; era of, 123; harbor 
of, 52, 64; missionaries at, 131; 
sand dunes of, 79; scenery near, 
60. 

Gennesaret, plain of, 177. 

Geographic environment, as mould 
of history, 3. 

Geographical Journal, 330. 

Geological structure, effect of, 4, 28 ; 
of Carmel, 155-156 ; of Edom, 220 ; 
of Galilee, 29; of Gilead, 28; of 
Judea, 10, 27-28, 138 ff . ; of Judean 
Wilderness, 85; of Moab, 28; of 
Palestine, 23-31, 78, 81, 145-151 ; of 
Philistine Plain, 62 ; of Samaria, 
9, 27-28, 137 ff., 155-156 ; of Shephe- 
lah, 78-81. 

Gerar, 401. 

Gerasa, 278 ff. (seeJerash). 
Gerizim, Mt., 8, 15, 155. 
Germany compared with Palestine, 
32. 

Ghor, 24 (see also Dead Sea, Arabs, 
and Jordan Valley), chapter ix, 
188 ff ., Arabs of, 107 ; Arab raids 
in, 189 ; defence of Judea, 90 ; for- 
mation of, 146, 148 ; historical im- 
portance of, 182-183 ; recent earth 
movements in, 305 ; near Samaria, 
140-143 ; seclusion of, 183 ; topo- 
graphical aspects of, 180-182 ; veg- 
etation of, 201, 217; effect upon 
Arabs, 217, 218. 

Gilboa, Mt., 144, 156 ; origin of, 28. 

Gilead, chapter ix, 226 ff.; forests of, 
229, 231, 233 ; geological structure 
of, 27-29, 145, 226, 233-234; Jewish 
character of, 227 ; peneplacation 
of, 147. 

Gileadites, 232-233; conservatism of, 

227 ; timidity of, 231. 
Gilgal, 138. 

Glacial period, 376 ; change of tem- 
perature in, 258-259 ; date of, 307; 
in Palestine, 258-259. 

Glaciers on Mt. Lebanon, 255. 

God-i-Zirrah, 323. 

Golden Calf at Bethel, 140. 

Gomorrah, King of, 93 ; location of, 
194. 

Graham, C. F., 99, 325, 347. 
Graves in Xegeb, 124. 
Greek or Roman colonnades, 123. 
Greek Priests, 87. 



436 INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



Greeks, complexion of, 408 ; in Jor- 
dan Valley, 186-137 ; origin of, 39. 
Gregory of Tours, 317-318, 330. 
Gudea, Babylonian prince, 381. 
Guy, Crusader King, 200. 

Haifa, 50; harbor of, 64; roads to, 
160. 

Haj, Pilgrimage, 210. 
Harbors, 63. 
Harosbeth, 168. 

Harvest scenes in Judea, 14, 15. 
Hat, ancient, 125. 

Hauran, 31, 160 (see Decapolis and 
Bashan) ; Arab invasions of, 301 ; 
boundary of, 29 ; plain of, 230. 

Hebrews (see Israelites and Jews), 
contrasted with Phoenicians, 42; in 
Egypt, 393; evolution of ideals, 
405; ideals of, 42; origin of, 127, 
387, 388, 390 ; relation to coast, 53; 
wars witb Philistines, 71. 

Hebron, 16, 27; captured by Edo- 
mites, 111; fertility of, 96; history 
of, 111; location of, 82 ; relation to 
Edom, 105; to Judah, 105 ; scenery 
near, 95. 

Hejaz Railway, 201, 204, 209. 

Hermits in Wilderness of Judea, 87- 
88. 

Hermon, 29, 234; compared with 
Alps, 33 ; upheaval of, 23. 

Highlands, effect on civilization, 72. 

High places at Petra, 223. 

Hilderscheid, cited, 249, 263,265, 267, 
420. 

Hill, cited, 363. 
Hinnom, Vale of, 83. 
Hippodrome at Bosra, 293. 
Hiram and Solomon, 164, 167. 
History, interpretation of, 4, 5. 
Hittites, 31; in Palestine, 389; rela- 
tion to Hyksos, 387 ; in Syria, 391. 
Horns, 347. 

Horizontal structure, effect of, 150- 
155. 

Horses, export from Egypt, 306; on 

steep roads, 106. 
Horns of Hattin, Battle of, 200. 
Hospital at Hebron, 114. 
Hot Springs near Dead Sea, 188. 
Houses, architecture of, 54; domed 

roofs of, 13 ; porches of, 15. 
Howeitat Arabs, 215. 
Huleh, 174. 
Hull, E., cited, 249. 



Humboldt, opinion of Ghor, ISO, 182. 

Hunin, 16. 

Hur and Moses, 128. 

Hyksos, 385-3S8, 394. 

Idealistic method of study, 5. 
Ilandarin, ruins of, 291-292, 319-320, 

329, 412. 
II Fedan, 300. 

Indo-Germanic invasion of Syria, 

401-402. 

Inscriptions, at Aujeh, 122; fre- 
quency of, 334 ; in Xegeb, 129-130. 
Invasions, due to drought, 37. 
Irbid, 235. 
Irises, 207. 

Irrigation, ancient, in Negeb, 109, 
117-118 ; in Biblical times, 57-58. 

Iron, early use of, 61. 

Isaac, and Abimelech, 401; well at 
Beersheba, 114 ; well at Rehoboth, 
121. 

Ishbosheth, 227. 

Isaiah, 164, 399. 

Isis, temple of, 221. 

Israel, first mention of, 391. 

Israelites (see Hebrews and Jews), 
complexion of, 408; conquest of 
Og,235, 236; conquest of Palestine, 
395. 

Istakhri, cited, 332. 

Jacob at Bethel, 139. 

Jaffa, description of, 54; harbor of, 
52,64; oranges of, 22; seen from 
Judea, 16; mention of, 159. 

Jauf , oasis of, 275, 277, 330. 

Jebel Druze, 230, 234 ; baths in, 290 ; 
menace to Bashan, 226. 

Jebel Jermak, 166, 174. 

Jebel Kalamon, 356. 

Jebel Usdum (Sodom?), 108. 

Jehoram, 397. 

Jehoshaphat, attacked by Moabites, 
93. 

Jehovah worship on Carmel, 157. 

Jenghis Elian, 371. 

Jenin, 144; roads through, 159. 

Jephthah, 227, 233. 

Jerash, 279-282 ; dry springs at, 333. 

Jericho, 21; relation to Dead Sea, 
314; roads to, 90-91. 

Jerusalem, destruction of, 165 ; go- 
ing up to, 17; scenerj- around, 82. 

Jesse, father of David, 71. 

Jesus, baptism of, 315-316 ; and the 



INDEX OF NAMES 



AND SUBJECTS 437 



children, 28,228, 232-233; limits of 
travels, 170; in Perea, 228; relation 
of teachings to environment, 182 ; 
and Samaritan woman, 136. 

Jews (see Hebrews and Israelites), 
contrasted with Phoenicians, 42; 
in Galilee, 163-164, 174; return of, 
to Palestine, 57; at Palmyra, 340. 

Jezebel, 8. 

Jezreel, 8 ; battle at, 161 ; vale of, 29, 
144. 

Jisr el Mujamia, 304. 

Jonathan, war with Philistines, 161. 

Jones, on malaria, 410. 

Joppa, 159 (see Jaffa). 

Jordan-Arabah, 24-26. 

Jordan River, ancient mouth of, 
310; delta of, 314; fishermen of, 
186; mouth of, 183, 187 ; source of, 
27 ; used for water power, 174. 

Jordan Valley (see Ghor), 189 ; origin 
of, 180 ; temperature of, 229. 

Joseph, 8 ; in Egypt, 393. 

Josephus, cited, 385. 

Joshua, Book of, 264, 310; census 
under, 263, 270. 

Judaism, persistence in Gilead, 28. 

Judea, agriculture in, 15; altitude 
of, 36 ; boundaries of, 310 ; in time 
of Christ, 413 ; compared with Alle- 
gheny Plateau, 154 ; contrast with 
Negeb, 111 ; contrast with Samaria, 
12, 14, 16, 28 ; density of population, 
83 ; effect of plateau on history of, 
17, 30; geological structure of, 12, 
27-28, 138 ff. 144-155; invasion of by 
Arabs, 38, 397; isolation of, 30, 32, 
41, 88-91, 405; natural boundaries 
of, 27 ; origin of name, 17 ; peasants 
of, 13-15; physical character of, 7; 
relation to Edom, 105; to Samaria, 
136; to sea, 65; to thoroughfares, 
155 ; roads of, 31, 151 ; ruggedness 
of, 151 ; scenery of, 12-14 ; as source 
of religion, 17; upheaval of, 23. 

Judean Plateau, 7, 16; difficulty of 
traversing, 68 ; scenery of, 82 ; size 
and structure of, 66; stones near 
Hebron, 95-96. 

Judean Wilderness, chapter v, 82 
ff. ; contrast with Shephelah, 95-99; 
geological structure of, 85 ; gorges 
of, 88; invasions through, 93-94; 
ruins in, 94. 

Jugma, cistern of, 110. 

Jungle, in Jordan Valley, 90. 



Justinian, Wall at Palamyra, 339. 
Jutta, Judean village, 17. 

Kadesh, 286. 

Kanawat, 245 ; spring at, 289. 
Karietein, oasis of, 349. 
Kasr el Yahud, 310, 313, 315. 
Kasr el Hajleh, 312. 
Kassites, invasion of Babylonia, 385, 
389. 

Kastal, 211, 282. 
Kedron Valley, 83. 
Kentucky, compared with Judea, 
154. 

Kerak, 216 ; castle of, 200. 
Khabiri, 389. 

Khalasa, crops at, 132; population 

of, 127 ; ruins of, 120, 124. 
Khan Bayer, 276. 
Khanikof, cited, 322. 
Khyan, 382. 

King, on Babylonia, 379 ff . 
Kir-hareseth, battle of, 398. 
Kish, 380. 
Kishon, 163. 

Kissing among Druzes, 244. 
Kiyataleh, invasions of, 329. 
Koseir el Halabat, pool at, 300. 
Kumran, Wadi, 88. 
Kureitein, ruins in Judea, 110. 

Lacustrine deposits of Dead Sea, 
304. 

Lagash, in Babylonia, 380. 

Lakes in North Syria, 286. 

Latitude of Palestine, 33, 35. 

Latter rains, 35, 419. 

Lava, east of Dead Sea, 192; flows of 
Galilee, 174; in Liga, 246. 

Lebanon, 29 (see also Phoenicia); 
compared with Alps, 33; descrip- 
tion of, 44 ff . ; freedom from war, 
50; glaciers in, 255; over-popula- 
tion of, 48; roads through, 31, 44; 
scenery, 26; upheaval of, 23. 

Lehman, on Egypt, 380. 

Leja, 234; baths in, 290; inaccessibil- 
ity of, 247-248; menace to Bashan, 
226, 230 ; scenery of, 246. 

Leuce-Come, 274. 

Libyans, invasion of Egypt, 391-392. 
Limestone, of Samaria, 155-156; of 

Shephelah, 80. 
Lions, in Wilderness of Judea, 88. 
Lisan, 191. 

Litany Paver, 29, 1C6. 



438 INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



Livingstone, D., cited, 249, 272. 
London, 20. 

Lop-Nor, fluctuations of, 323-324, 

328, 333. 
Lot, 195. 

Lugalzaggisi, 380. 

Luynes, Due de, expedition of, 270. 

Malan, 330. 
Machpelah, 111. 

Madeba, 329; mosaic map at, 205; 

town of, 204. 
Magan, 381. 

Magdala, on Sea of Galilee, 178. 
Malaria, effect on races, 409-410. 
Manasseh, inheritance of, 265. 
Manetho, cited, 385. 
Map, mosaic, at Madeba, 205. 
Mares of Arabs, 347-348. 
Marine deposits of Philistine Plain, 
55. 

Mar Saba, monastery of, 87. 
Martyrs, early Christian, 76. 
Masterman, W. G. A., cited, 308. 
Mecca, pilgrimage to, 209-210; rail- 
road, 300, 331. 
Medes, the, 402. 

Mediterranean Sea, compared with 
Pacific Ocean, 22 ; view of, 16. 

Megiddo, 144, 160 ; battle of, 388. 

Meir. Rabbi, cited, 422. 

Mejdel, village of Galilee, 178. 

Meremptah, 391. 

Merom, waters of, 174. 

Mesopotamia, early history of, 379 
ff . ; trade routes to, 30. 

Mesha, 199, 212. 

Meshita, ruins of, 209. 

Meteorological Phenomena, ancient, 
419. 

Meteorological Records, evidence as 

to climatic change, 254. 
Meunim, invasion of Israel, 397. 
Meyer, cited, 379. 
Michmash, Israelites at, 140. 
Midianites, 8. 

Migration, in times of drought, 357; 

from Plateau to Ghor, 141-142 ; in 

Seventh Century, 331. 
Mijleya, 291. 

Mill, International Geography, 343. 
Millet, raised in Negeb, 119. 
Mineans (Meunim), 397. 
Mimosa trees, 56. 

Misgovernment, and depopulation, 
210, 281 ; possible influence of, 40. 



Mishna, the, on rainfall, 419-422. 

Mitanni, 390; invasion of Mesapo- 
tamia, 385. 

Moab, chapter x, 199 ff . ; burden of, 
399; compared with California, 
22; contrast with Judea, 208; 
effect of aridity upon, 399-400; 
geological structure of, 28, 145, 
200; invasion of, by Arabs, 37; 
northern boundary of, 27; pene- 
planation of, 148; physical divi- 
sions of, 203-205 ; scenery of, 202 ff. 

Moabite Stone, 199, 212. 

Moabites, change in character of, 
397-400; character of, 199; inva- 
sion of Israel, 397 ; of Judea, 93. 

Mohammedanism, rise of, 336,371; 
conquest of Moab, 199. 

Mohave Desert, compared with the 
Ghor, 22. 

Mongols, diversion of Oxus River 
by, 333. 

Mosaics, map at Madeba, 205; in 

church at Aujeh, 123. 
Moses, at battle with Amalekites, 

128. 

Mount Carmel, peneplanation of, 
147. 

Mountain whites, compared with 

Hebrews, 154. 
Mureg Asharan, irrigation canal of, 

109. 

Myos Hormos, trade route to, 278. 
Naaman, 341. 

Nabateans, invasion of Moab, 199; 

migration, 402. 
Nablus (Shechem), 10. 
Naboth, 8. 
Nahr el Kelb, 44. 
Naomi, 211. 

Napoleon, invasion of Egypt, 269. 
Naram-Sin, 381. 

Naumachia at Bosra, 293 ; at Jerash, 
280-281. 

Nazareth, 169; roads through, 160; 

trade of, 171. 
Nebk, 349. 
Nebo, Mt., 202. 

Negeb, chapter vi, 104 ff.; agri- 
culture in, 129, 135; appearance of, 
113; Christians in, 329; climate, 
changes of, in, 129 ff. ; geological 
structure of, 138 ; nature of, 27; 
nomads of, 74, 130; population of, 
126; as protection to Palestine, 



INDEX OF NAMES 



AND SUBJECTS 439 



128; routes across, 30; ruins of, 

114-126 ; upheaval of, 23. 
Nevada, compared with Syrian 

Desert, 26. 
Neve, cited, 368. 

New York, compared with Pales- 
tine, 20. 
Nicodemus, 163. 
Nile, drifting mud of, 64. 
Nippur, 381. 

Nomadism, conditions of, 126, 132- 

133, 401. 
Nomadization, 75. 

Oak scrub in Shephelah, 67. 
Odenathus of Palmyra, 338. 
Og, King of Bashan, 235, 236; land 

of, 230 (see Bashan). 
Oleanders, 231. 

Olives, 33, 60; of Shephelah, 67; 

flowers of, 74. 
Olympia, ruins of, 330. 
Ommiad, ruins, 289. 
Oranges, in Philistia, 57, 60. 
Orontes River, 26. 
Orontes Valley, lakes of, 286. 
Ox carts at Jerash, 279. 
Oxen, in Bashan, 243 ; muzzled, 15. 
Oxus River, changes of, 333. 

Pacific Ocean, compared with Med- 
iterranean, 22, 35. 

Paintings, in caves, 78. 

Palestine, ancient, chapter xvii, 
405-416; boundaries of, 23,29; in 
time of Christ, 413-416; climate 
before Christ, 373 ff . ; climatic di- 
versity of, 32, 36 ; compared with 
eastern U. S., 20; with California, 
21, 35; with Germany, 32; with 
Switzerland, 32; conquest by Is- 
raelites, 394; diversity of, 228; Ex- 
ploration Fund, 420 ; former popu- 
lation of, 263, 267; geological 
structure of, 23-31; latitude of, 
33 ; methods of study of, 5 ; phy- 
sical form of, 22, 406 ; size of, 19- 
20s southern limit of, 27; subtrop- 
ical climate of, 34; trade routes 
through, 30; transportation in, 
39 ; upheaval of, 23 ; variety of, 
20-22 ; winds of, 36; Yale Expedi- 
tion to, 5. 

Palgrave, cited, 275, 276. 

Palms, 60; in Dead Sea, 309; at 
Jenin, 144; wild, 192. 



Palmyra, 278, 407; chapter xv, 337 ff.; 
contrast, with Damascus, 342; de- 
scription of, 358-361; effect of 
climatic changes on, 366-372 ; his- 
tory of, 338-340; roads to, 346; 
size of, 340, 344-345; war against, 
336; water supply, 361-366; wealth 
of, 338. 

Parched corn, 142. 

Parched land, 104 (see Negeb). 

Paris, 20. 

Patterson, Dr., cited, 114. 

Pavements of Shechem, 11. 

Peasants, of Judea, 13-15. 

Peneplain of Palestine, 147. 

Pennsylvania, compared with Sa- 
maria, 154. 

Perea, Christ in, 228. 

Persians, invasion under Cyrus, 402. 

Peter, vision of, 54. 

Petra, 221-225, 278 ; location on trade 
routes, 30; trade routes to, 159, 273, 
278, 305, 330. 

Petrie, on Egypt, 380. 

Pharisees, in Perea, 163. 

Phasis River, 322. 

Philadelphia, 20 , 233, 278 (see Am- 
man). 

Philip, Emperor, 290. 

Philistine Plain, 25, 159; colonies in, 
57; culture of, 72; invasion of, by 
Arabs, 37; nature of, 53 ff.; routes 
through, 30 ; scenery of, 55 ; scen- 
ery near Gaza, 74. 

Philistines, battle with Saul, 8, 161 ; 
early culture of, 60-61; invasion 
of Judea, 397; and Samson, 25; 
wars with Hebrews, 71. 

Phinehas at Bethel, 139. 

Phoenicia, description of, 44 ff. (see 
also Lebanon) ; roads to, 160. 

Phoenician coast, depression of, 149. 

Phoenician and Jew, chapter hi, 42. 

Phoenicians, character of, 42 ; com- 
pared with Modern Syrians, 49; 
in Galilee, 167 ; outgoings of, 390 ; 
in Shephelah, 75, 77, 78. 

Physical environment, relation to 
character, 72 ; relation to history, 
3; reflected in Gospels, 136. 

Pigeons, wild, 142. 

Pilgrim route to Mecca, 208-209. 

Plains, effect on civilization, 72. 

Plateaus, see Edom, Galilee, Judea, 
Judean Plateau, Moab. 

Pliny, description of Palmyra, 343. 



440 INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



Ploughs, of Arabs, 119. 

Population, ancient density of, 262, 
267 ; of ruins, 120, 126. 

Porter, E. H., cited, 340. 

Precipitation (see Rainfall). 

Prickly Pear, 33. 

Princes, wall of, 382. 

Princeton Expedition, 283 ff., 334. 

Progressive change of climate, hy- 
pothesis of, 255. 

Ptolemy, on Arabia, 273. 

Pulsations of climate, 377. 

Pulsatory change of climate, hy- 
pothesis of, 256. 

" Pulse of Asia," 325. 

Pumpelly Expedition, 377. 

Quarrels, between Arabs and Fella- 
hin, 97. 

Rabboth-Ammon, 233. 

Raids, of Arabs, 215 (see Arab raids) ; 
effect of rain upon, 298, 302; of 
Moabites, 398-399; in Negeb, 126. 

Railways, at Damascus, 341; pro- 
jected in Egypt, 64; Hejaz, to 
Mecca, 209 ; water supply of Hejaz, 
300 ; from Jaffa to Jerusalem, 69. 

Rain, former and latter, 35, 419. 

Rainfall, causes of, 85-86 ; dates of, 
420-421; distribution by months, 
34-35 ; effect of modern variations 
of, 296-302; effect on springs, 364; 
extremes of, 35; at Hebron, 96; on 
opposite sides of Ghor, 107-109; in 
Negeb, 115-116; of Palestine, com- 
pared with other countries, 259- 
260; seasons of, in Palestine, 257; 
source of, 36, 85. 

Rameses II, 45. 

Rameses III, 393. 

Rawlinson, H., cited, 329. 

Reapers, 354. 

Reclus, cited, 249. 

Red Sea, commerce in, 369; routes 

across, 278. 
Rehoboth, 121. 

Religious dissension in Egypt, 390, 
392. 

Renaud, of Chatillon, 199. 

Rhine, compared with Jordan, 32. 

Rift Valley of Africa, 182. 

Roads in Edom, 105-107; in Judea, 
12, 88-90, 91. 

Robbers, among Druzes, 245 ; in Ne- 
geb, 105. 



Roman bridge in Syria, 288. 
Roman Government, relation to 

Arabs, 357-358. 
Roman roads, 367 ; to Bosra, 242 ; to 

Moab, 201 ; to Petra, 219. 
Roman ruins, at Sebastiyeh, 10. 
Romans, conquest of Moab, 199. 
Ruheibah, population of, 127; ruins, 

121, 124. 

Ruins, 39; in Chinese Turkestan, 
324; decrease in, 288; of En-Gedi, 
101; south of Hebron, 110; east of 
Jordan, 278 ff. ; in lake beds, 322- 
324; in Negeb, 114 ff.; on borders of 
Palestine, 281; in Sinai, 271-272; in 
Syrian desert, 276. 

Russian Monastery at Jaffa, 59. 

Ruth, 142, 211. 

Sacrifices, at Edrei, 238. 
Safed, 16. 

Said Khalifa, official at Beersheba, 
116. 

St. Catherine, monastery of, 87. 

St. George, monastery of, 87. 

St. John the Baptist, convent of, 
310, 316. 

St. Quentin, 20. 

St. Saba, monastery of, 87. 

Saladin, 200. 

Salaries of officials, 116. 

Saleh, spring at, 289. 

Salinity of Dead Sea, 181. 

Salt deposits of Dead Sea, 108. 

Salt gatherers on Dead Sea, 92. 

Salt lakes, of Asia, 321 ff . ; of Califor- 
nia, 26. 

Salt springs in Ghor, 90, 108. 

Samaria, relative accessibility of, 
140 ff., 143-145; boundaries of, 143- 
144; chief towns of, 10; in time of 
Christ, 414; city of, 9, 10, 11; loca- 
tion near roads, 161; compared with 
Appalachians, 150; contrast with 
Judea, 7, 12, 16; effect of trade, 31 ; 
fall of, 407 ; foreign associations of, 
8; foreign influences in, 11; an- 
cient forests of, 265; geological 
structure of, 11, 27-28, 137 ff., 145- 
150, 155-156 ; natural boundaries 
of, 27-28 ; relation of inhabitants 
to physical features, 11-12 ; rela- 
tion to sea, 65; relation to thor- 
oughfares, 155; scenery of, 8- 
12; size of, 138, 139; trade routes 
through, 158-162; women of, 9, 136. 



INDEX OF NAMES 



AND SUBJECTS 441 



Samaritans, deportation of, 400 ; 

dress of, 11 ; relation to Jews, 136. 
Samrah, 300. 
Samson, 25, 69 ff. 

Sand dunes, near Gaza, 79 ; of Ghor, 

218 ; in Xegeb, 120. 
Sandstone, of Edom, 106 ; of Petra, 

220-223. 

Sanhedrin, removal to Galilee, 164. 
Sarafan, village, 59. 
Sargon I, 3S1. 
Saris, village, 82. 

Saul, defeat of, 8; war with Ama- 
lekites, 128 ; war with Philistines, 
71, 161. 

Sawahri Arabs, 92. 

Scythes of early Israelites, 61. 

Scythian invasion, 402. 

Sea, effect upon Phoenicians, 47 ff . ; 
effect upon Philistines and He- 
brews, 62 ; influence upon Phoeni- 
cians and Jews, 43. 

Seba, Wadi es, 113. 

Sebastiyeh, ancient Samaria, 10. 

Sebkah, salt plain of Dead Sea, 107; 
Palmyra, 360. 

Seistan, 323, 328. 

Selim, 45. 

Semakh, village of Galilee, 178. 
Semitic invasion of Babylonia, 379, 
383. 

Sepulchral Towers at Palmyra, 359. 
Serakh, bath at, 289, 332, 335. 
Sergilla, 291. 

Sesostris, inscription of, 45. 
Sha'arah, 290. 

Sharon, Plain of, 43 (see Philistine 
Plain). 

Sheba, bath at, 290 ; Queen of, 396. 

Shechem, description of, 10. 

Sheep, rarely watered, 93. 

Shells, on Mediterranean coast, 55. 

Shepbelah, chapter iv, 66 ff.; as 
battle-ground, 71 ; continuation in 
Samaria, 143; contrast with Ju- 
dean Wilderness, 95-99; contrast 
with neighboring regions, 68; geo- 
logical structure of, 78-81 ; nature 
of, 67; peneplain of, 147; seen from 
Sinjil, 16; as refuge, 73. 

Shepherd boys of Judea, 84. 

Shererat Arabs, 330-332, 370, 386. 

Shore of Mediterranean, 63. 

Si'a, bath at, 290. 

Sidon, 51, 63. 

Sidonian traffickers, 8. 



Silk at Petra, 222. 

Silet ed Dabr, village of Samaria, 9. 

Sinai, 23 ; inhabitants of, 270 ; Israel- 
ites in, 268-272; Mt. 87; ruins in, 
271-272. 

Sinjil, Judean village, 12, 138. 
Sinuhe, Egyptian traveller, 384. 
Sisera, 163, 168. 
Smith, Geo. A., cited, 76, 156. 
Snow, 298, 300; relation to crops, 
260. 

Sodom, apples of, 201; identified 
withUsdum? 108; king of, 93; lo- 
cation of, 194^198. 

Soil, and change of climate, 411-413; 
denudation of , 40 ; diminution of , 
in Syria, 286-287; washing away 
of, 112. 

Soldiers, relation to Arabs, 350-352. 
Solomon, extent of kingdom under, 

25; and Hiram, 164, 167; trade in 

horses, 396. 
Sorek, Yale of, 69, 81. 
Soundings of Dead Sea, 325. 
Spies, of Joshua, 128. 
Springs, dry, 289, 333. 
Stein, M. A., cited, 324, 328, 402. 
Stones, prevalence of in Judea, 96; 

use in North Syria, 284. 
Storks, 300. 

Strabo, on Arabia Petrea, 274; on 
Caspian Sea, 322, 327; on Galilee, 
164. 

Strands of Dead Sea, 303-310. 
Succoth, 391. 
Sulkhad, 242. 
Sumer, 379. 

Sun, Temple of, at Palmyra, 340,359, 
360, 361. 

Sunset sceneiy, in Judea, 15. 

Switzerland compared with Pales- 
tine, 32. 

Syria, architecture in, 284, 334 ; dis- 
tinguished from Palestine, 29; in 
Fourteenth Century, B. c, 389; 
mountains of, 26 ; wars of, 335-336. 

Syrian Desert, 24, 26; roads across, 
275-278; ruins in, 276 ; temperature 
of, 346-347. 

Syrians, in America, 48 ; character 
of, 287, 288; in Egypt, 393. 

Tabernacles. Feast of, 57, 420. 
Tabor, 166; Mt., 163. 
Tafileh in Edom, 105. 
Taiyibeh, 17, 141, 153. 



442 INDEX OF NAMES AND SUBJECTS 



Talmud, on rainfall, 419; written in 

Galilee, 164. 
Tamerlane, 333, 372. 
Tanganyika, Lake, 182. 
Tattooing, 13, 236. 
Tear bottles, 125. 
Teima, 330. 

Tekoa, Wilderness of, 84. 

Tell el Amarna, 389. 

Tell el Hesy, fields near, 134. 

Tell Hum, 177. 

Tell Nebi Minto, 286. 

Temperature, at Dead Sea, 90; in 

May, 229; of Syrian Desert, 346, 

347. 

Temple at Jerusalem, 291. 
Tennessee compared with Judea, 
154. 

Terraces, ancient, 124; of cultivation 
at En-Gedi, 101 ; of Jordan, 315; in 
Negeb, 124 ; of Samaria, 8 ; in North 
Syria, 286. 

Tertiary Era, 23. 

Theatre at Amman, 295; at Bosra, 
293; at Jerash, 280. 

Thomas of Ilandarin, 292, 295. 

Thotmose III, 388. 

Threshing-floors, 15. 

Tiberias, lake of (see Galilee). 

Tiberias, town of, 178. 

Tiglath-Pileser 1, 395. 

Tiglath-Pileser IV, 400. 

Timaus, king of Egypt, 385. 

Timber, former use of, in Syria, 284 ; 
exported from Syria, 395. 

Tombs, of Beit Jibrin, 76-78; at El 
Beida, 221 ; of the kings, 307. 

Topography, relation to geology and 
history, 6. 

Torrey, Prof. C. C, cited, 123. 

Trade routes, ancient, 268-277; cause 
of abandonment, 277-278; effect 
upon Philistines, 61 ; effect upon 
Samaria, 158-162; in Galilee, 171- 
173 ; in Syrian desert, 367-370. 

Traffic, effect on Samaria, 31. 

Trajan, 336 ; and Arabs, 357. 

Transcaspia, drought in, 332, 377. 

Treasury of Pharaoh, 221. 

Trees, 266 (see forests); distribu- 
tion of, 60. 

Troglodytes, in Gilead, 232. 

Truth, low estimate of, 98. 

Turbans, green, 10. 

Turkish Government, relation to 
Arabs, 350-352, 356-358 ; relation to 



Beduin, 97; at Beersheba, 113, 
115 ff.; degeneration under, 264; 
relation to Druzes, 240-242. 

Turkish officials in Edom, 105. 

Turkish projects of reform, 121, 122. 

Turkomans in North Syria, 299. 

Turmus, 60 (Arab bean). 

Tyre, 51, 63, 167; ladder of, 167. 

Uazed, 382. 

Um ed Jemal, 300; ruins of, 294. 
Underground water, changes of, 
296. 

TJniformitarian hypothesis of cli- 
mate, 254. 

United States, compared with Pal- 
estine, 20. 

Ur, 380. 

Utah, 21, 28 ; compared with Edom, 

220. 

Uzdum, 191, 194. 

Vegetables of Jerusalem, 83. 

Vegetation, in dry vs. wet years, 
296-299; of Ghor, 217-218 ; of Judea, 
14 ; of Philistine Plain, 56. 

Volcanoes, of Galilee, 165, 174, 175; 
of Leja, 246; near Sodom, 196. 

WadiAujeh, 121. 

Wadi Butm, bridge at, 288. 

Wadi Fedan, 219. 

Wadi Mojib, 193. 

Wadi Rajil, 288. 

Wadies Seba, 113; floods in, 115; 

wells in, 118, 134. 
Wadi Sheriyah, limit of cultivation, 

131, 134. 
Wadi Sirhan, 276, 277. 
Wadi Zedi, 300. 
Wars in Shephelah, 71. 
Water supply, at Amman, 295; at 

Bosra, 293; at Ilandarin, 292, 296; 

at Jerash, 280; of Petra, 222; at 

Um ed Jemal, 294 (see Climate). 
Waterworks at Petra, 118. 
Weisit, 277. 

Wells, at Beersheba, 114, 118; in 
caves of Shephelah, 76 ; in Wadi 
es Seba, 134; in Philistine Plain, 
58 ; stopped with stones, 101. 

Wen Amen, travels of, 395. 

Western Plateau, 24-26. 

Wheat culture in Negeb, 117. 

Whiting, J., cited, 127. 

Wight, Isle of, 20. 



INDEX OF NAMES 



AND SUBJECTS 443 



Wilderness of Judea, chapter v, 82 

ff . (see also Judea). 
"Wildernesses, cause of, 86. 
Wilson, cited, 249, 420. 
Winds, prevailing, 34, 36. 
Women, among Druzes, 243; of 

Arabs, 110; dress of Arab, 236; 

dress of, in Philistine Plain, 59 > 

dress in Judea, 13; of Samaria, 9; 

tattooed, 13 ; unveiled in villages, 

14. 

Wood, former use of, 284. 
Worship of Semites, 224. 
Wright, cited, 352-357. 



| Yabrud, 353. 

Yale Expedition to Palestine, 5, 45, 

186, 195. 
Yaqeb-her, 382. 

Yarmak River, lava flows and delta, 
175. 

Zebina, Christian martyr, 76. 
Zenobia, 338, 339. 
Zionist movement, 57. 
Ziza, ruins of, 211, 282, 400. 
Zoar, 108. 

Zuweireh (Zoar?) 108. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



7 



